#this is so gooey i feel like i should hide my face in my hands

[rozaceous]

tcba epilogue: sasumari snippet

this was the main bulk of the epilogue, written even before i posted tcba on ao3. that is how old. ergo, some grain of salt w details pls as it is a v rough draft and some things would have to change for continuity or whatever, but this is the thing it all was angling for. sasumari qpr confirmed.

Watching Sasuke handle the freshly-changed newborn with such intense gentleness while she scrubs off her hands with a shake of chakra, Mariko is bludgeoned with the realization that Sasuke likes babies, and that a sense of responsibility hasn't been his sole driving motivation. And while she reels dizzily from that revelation, she thinks, We can have babies.

And then Mariko stops thinking for a while because that was one too many revelations for it not even being dawn yet.

She has no idea what they think they're doing in the first place. The two of them coming across a raided village with a dying pregnant woman that Mariko hadn't been able to save, and then deciding that they couldn't just leave an infant in a smoking village to die, and then not trusting that the girl wouldn't just meet the same fate the next town over had turned into Mariko manipulating her own hormones to be able to nurse a two day-old baby. And here they are, nearly two weeks out, traveling with a baby in between destabilizing hidden villages and international economies and dodging mercenaries, and she's realizing that the truth of it is that neither of them is gutsy enough to say that they don't think they're giving her up besides all of that. Instead, they've been politely not talking about just such a thing so that they can maintain their fiction of being ruthless shinobi instead of a pair of dysfunctional nineteen year-olds who randomly adopt a baby together despite leading desperately dangerous lives.

God and her boobs hurt. Breast-feeding is no joke; her nipples are chapped and her boobs are sore from going from zero to nursing in the span of thirty-six hours. Her entire upper torso hurts, actually, from having to accommodate the abrupt change in her weight, and the hormonal shift means that she's breaking out for the first time in her life because she's too busy maintaining the hormones and keeping a newborn alive and happy besides her usual maintenance of the Sharingan to have focus to spare to use medical chakra to get rid of her acne.

At least she hasn't actually given birth, because Mariko isn't sure she would be even moderately functional if that were the case.

But instead of pondering any of that mess too deeply, she lets Sasuke bundle the baby up to sleep with him and passes the fuck out. Shun has watch, it's fine.

She doesn't say anything in the morning, either. She feeds the baby, feeling all sorts of soft and sappy and not entirely sure that it's entirely hormonal, because when she looks up, Sasuke is staring at her from across the campsite, staring at them, and to anyone else his expression might be unreadable, but to her all she sees is naked want.

And fine, it's only been a week and a half and by civilian standards they aren't even legal adults yet, but Sasuke has never once complained when the baby cried, has taken her for changing numerous times without Mariko asking, does extra chores, and asks to hold her. Granted that last is in his own, 'I'll take her' Sasuke-style verbiage that makes it seem less about him expressly wanting to do so, but Mariko knows him. And Mariko knows that if she were so diametrically opposed to this entire enterprise, she never would have made herself start lactating, and would've foisted the baby off on the first set of reasonably competent-looking parents she could find, that she wouldn't sing to the baby to calm her from her fussing, wouldn't share comments with Sasuke about how small her hands are with one of those hands gripped around her pinky, wouldn't speculate with him what color her eyes would settle as. (Sasuke thinks dark blue, but Mariko thinks black. She says that she has statistics on her side and Sasuke says that he has the power of basic observation on his and is she sure she isn't still colorblind.)

So to see him staring like that doesn't surprise her as such, but it makes her look away because of how naked it makes her feel to look back. And not naked as in, here she is in the middle of a mountainous forest tits-out kind of naked, because if this was about clothes then they've seen each other naked plenty of times, but naked as in, returning his gaze means he knows that she's thought 'we can have babies,' or at least the equivalent of that thought, and having Sasuke know that about her when she's only known that about herself for less than twelve hours is a bit much.

And so yes, it's all less surprising and more very tender feeling, like a spot that's liable to bruise, and Mariko is just enough of a coward to not to want to prod at it too much.

Instead she looks down at her baby--

And slams the mental brakes because yep, she's in for it now, she's really done it, there's no going back, the river has been crossed. Ha. Ha ha.

Well. No more fooling herself.

She looks back at Sasuke, who's still watching them, makes a sort of tilt of her head that means come here, and then Sasuke's at her side instead of filleting fish, kneeled on the ground where she's cross-legged.

"She needs a name," is what Mariko says, almost like she's hearing someone else say the words. "We can't just keep calling her anoko or Ko-chan." She pauses, thinks a moment, and says dubiously, "Unless you want to name her Kou. I guess that would be…efficient."

Lazy is more like.

Sasuke's eyes go a bit wide. He looks down at the child in question. "A name, huh?"

---

They return to the base in Sound by the time Yasumi is a month and a half old, and she's snug and hidden in her wrap against Mariko's chest under her kimono top and haori, so they don't draw many strange looks until they're waylaid by Juugo and Karin as they're setting down their packs in their dusty entryway and Mariko has to dodge Karin's hug.

"Uhh," says Karin, confused and apologetic, looking her over more carefully, questing for injuries.

"I'm fine," Mariko says hastily. "It's just--"

As if cued, Yasumi starts to whimper and snuffle.

All four of them freeze, and Mariko tries not to glance sideways at Sasuke like a caught-out preteen.

"Is that…a baby?" says Karin cautiously.

"Maybe," says Mariko, like a dumbass.

Yasumi cries louder. Mariko winces and starts shifting fabric around until she's latched onto a nipple. Juugo only seems to realize he's staring at her naked boob after several long moments of shared speechlessness, and then looks away politely, if wild-eyed.

"I'm pretty sure there's no 'maybe' about that baby," says Karin, sounding a bit faint. "Like, that is definitely a baby sucking on your tit, Mariko."

"I mean, you're not wrong."

Sasuke is determinedly not meeting anyone's eye.

"I'm sure that we didn't leave the two of you alone long enough for this to have happened," Juugo says.

Mariko feels a deep flush cover her face, sees something similar happening along Sasuke's cheekbones and ears. If they weren't in the middle of having to explain a mystery baby, she'd think it was adorable. She's only seen him blush a handful of times in her life.

"Five months is not long enough for a baby," Karin agrees. "So why--how--baby?!"

"We found her," Sasuke says. "Her mother died, the village was basically ash--we couldn't leave her."

"So naturally the best option is to just adopt her," Karin says sarcastically.

Neither Sasuke nor Mariko reply to that.

"Oh my god!" Karin bursts out. "Seriously?! You found some strange baby and decided to just keep her?!"

Juugo closes the front door.

"You two are some of the most wanted people on the entire Continent! The bounties on your heads are worth a small country! And you just randomly adopt a baby?! Are you stupid?! You--I--since when are the two of you even sleeping together?!"

Mariko and Sasuke frown in unison at that, because what does that have to do with it?

"Technically we've slept together since the age of twelve," Sasuke says, surly.

"Oh, don't be--you know what I mean! Whatever, you've been doing the whole bedroll-sharing thing for years, blah blah! I mean, Mariko's had this whole under-the-table booty call thing off and on with Haku, and you two are connected at the hip, but you've never been together." But Karin retracts the finger she's been jabbing in their direction, looking between them with sudden uncertainty. "Right? You weren't--you're not together?"

"We haven't been secretly having sex for the past few years, no," Mariko says dryly. Meanwhile, Yasumi detaches herself from her breast, making soft noises. "Not that it's your business, really."

Karin puffs right back up, bright hair tossing over a shoulder, and hands on her hips. "Well, excuse me, but when you bring back a baby together and are implying that she's yours now--you're basically saying that you're her parents!"

Mariko stiffens, because that's a word that she's successfully avoided thinking, even though she's thought the equivalent of its meaning with quite a bit of depth. But when she looks over to Sasuke, he's just frowning at Karin, apparently confused.

"Who else would I have children with but Mariko?" he asks.

Karin has no reply to that; her jaw is locked open. Juugo has his eyebrows up, but doesn't look like he's had the rug pulled out from under him the way Karin does.

Mariko--Mariko can't say exactly the same as Sasuke, mostly because Sasuke says it like he's never even thought about having children except in the context of 'with Mariko.' And Mariko, in contrast, has thought about having children a lot, because talented kunoichi without bloodlines were considered valuable in a way that meant that there was a lot of semi-public conversation about who she'd make a good match for back in Konoha, as soon as she'd visibly hit puberty. Shinobi placed a lot of stock in--well, in one's stock, and to avoid inbreeding to the point of injury, clans liked to bring in fresh blood that was unlikely to rock the genetic boat. Or, hopefully, improve it. And having graduated in a class full of clan heirs and with bloodline geniuses for peers, while herself having gotten a swift series of promotions and an apprenticeship with one of the village's most notorious shinobi…Mariko had always been considered a hot commodity insofar as the older generation was concerned. Her relationship with Haku had garnered a lot of attention, and the possibility of him marrying into Konoha and having children had been a big reason for it.

So if Mariko's ever thought seriously about having children one day, she'd either thought that it wasn't likely because she was planning a societal revolution and was likely to die before reproducing or just be too damn busy, or she'd thought that she might pop out a kid or two with whomever was most convenient to marry and do her best not to fuck them up irreparably.

Hearing Sasuke essentially say that he wouldn't consider having children with anyone but her is functionally the same as when she'd thought 'we can have lots of babies' in a sleep-deprived stupor: it's a conclusion that she should have arrived at sooner, but is incredible and stunning in how normal it felt when she stopped and really thought about it.

Mariko takes Yasumi out of her wrap and faces her towards Karin.

"She's super cute," Mariko says solemnly. "We named her Yasumi. She sleeps a ton and is ridiculously snuggly. We want you to be her godmother."

She shifts Yasumi into Karin's arms, who takes her seemingly on autopilot with an expression like she's been hit over the head. Mariko doesn't even have to tell her to support her head.

Karin stares at Yasumi like she's never seen a baby before in her life.

"We were going to ask both of you, actually," says Sasuke. "To be godparents."

"Me?" says Juugo, alarmed.

"You," Sasuke confirms.

"Naruto'll be pissed when he finds out," adds Mariko, "but I basically raised that guy and he shouldn't be allowed around small children unattended for at least another decade. Besides the whole political situation thing."

"If it's really that important, he can be a godparent later," Sasuke says dismissively.

Mariko turns to him with narrowed eyes. "Someone's getting ahead of himself."

Sasuke seems to realize what he's said and looks as close as he ever gets to sheepish. "Sorry."

"Mmhm."

"Of course this is what you do," Karin says dully. "We leave the two of you alone for five months and think, 'Oh, well, the plan is already for them to fuck things up, how bad can it get?' and then we get reminded that it's you two and that when left unattended you'll both take down an international human trafficking market and find a stray baby to adopt."

"They weren't necessarily any better when we were there to try to stop them," Juugo says, smiling crookedly as he stands closer to Karin, peering at Yasumi. "I know you remember starting an entire labor movement with the civilian printer's guild in Grass when we were just there to steal a press."

"Just because I remember doesn't mean I want to be reminded," Karin grouses.

Sasuke apparently is satisfied that the situation is more or less resolved and sets about unpacking, dragging their bags just off the kitchen; Mariko follows suit and sweeps her chakra around the hall's surfaces, and then the kitchen's, and collects all the dust into a single great bunny of allergens, opens the kitchen window, and has it hop outside. Sasuke turns to stare at her for that last bit.

"Gross," he informs her.

She just shrugs. She animates dust into literal bunnies--sue her. It's not her fault that not everyone appreciates a good pun.

[sunflowersteves]

hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

~

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

[moonlight-prose]

accidentally staring a bit too long at their lips w/ fritz bestie please i am begging he has kissable lips 😩

EARTH ANGEL

a/n: because manny jacinto is finally showing up my dash constantly, i felt like i had to write something for the one and only fritz. this is courtesy of us just screaming about him. a nonstop convo about how beautiful he is. also cause top gun summer 3.0 is necessary when the weather hits 90 and you want to crawl out of your skin. this is unedited and beta read by you babes.

summary: what does it mean to belong to someone? to be stuck in their gravitational pull, to feel that cosmic connection that makes breathing difficult when they were away.

OR a dance, a song, and the aspect of forever all leads to one conclusion. falling in love with fritz was inevitable.

word count: 3.2k+

pairing: bill ‘fritz’ avalone x f!reader

warnings: so much fluff it’s scary, romance, the hopefulness of two hopeless romantics, fluff, flirty vibes from our man fritz, he's obsessed it's so cute, the good gooey feelings that make people do stupid things for love.

Celebratory cheers bounced off the walls as you did your best not to get knocked on your ass. People crowded the bar, beer in their hands and requests for more flying off their lips. And you did what you could to sink into the corner. Away from those that were already on the road to slurring their words given the demeanor of the setting. People were floating on cloud nine. Over the damn moon as the mission they stressed over suddenly became a success.

The condensation dripped onto your hand, slipping down your wrist when you took a sip. You should have wiped it away on your sundress, but the scene before you distracted every one of your senses. Rooster was three beers in, a shot of something amber beside him, as he sang at the top of his lungs. His fingers danced over the keys.

Surprising given that he was tipping over the piano, his eyes glazed and gleaming. A group of pilots you tried to make sense of practically fell beside him, their voices shouting above the others. The serenity of bliss drawn on their faces. You figured they were the ones who'd accomplished the job.

"Can I buy you a drink honey?" The drunken slur of a pilot tripping his way towards you nearly threw you off, but with a tip of your beer and a lazy smile you watched him accept defeat. His eyes already set to a redhead seated at the bar - her gaze locked on him with a hunger you only felt for one man.

"You shouldn't hide away," Phoenix called, sliding into the corner with you, two beer necks wrapped in each hand. Another round to kill the stress of the day—to remember they weren't just pilots.

You grinned. "Who says I'm hiding?"

A quirk of her eyebrow and a murmured mhm called you out faster than you anticipated. Hiding wasn't the prerogative. If you had another beer in your system, you'd be sitting by Rooster attempting to match his note for one of your own. But celebration wasn't to be had if the one you were waiting for hadn't waltzed through the door yet. His friends trailing behind him, wolf whistles traded for smirks from pretty women at the bar.

"He'll be here soon," she said, nodding towards the door. "Mav kept them longer than usual."

"Who says I'm waiting for someone?"

She laughed, a shrug thrown your way as she meandered through the mess of rowdy pilots. "Who says you're not?"

Any other pilot would have figured you wanted away from the noise, any of them wouldn't have seen how your eyes fell to the door whenever it swung open. But Phoenix...she could see the faint emotion that shone in your eyes. She saw how you laughed a bit harder in his presence, how he actually talked longer, how your hands brushed when you thought no one was looking. You were an open book, and Phoenix was rapidly turning the pages to see how this particular story came to an end.

"Phoenix—"

The call fell on deaf ears as she rejoined her boys. A seat procured for her by the pool table within seconds. They may give her shit left and right, but you caught the way respect bled from their hearts when she entered the scene. A comradery that left even you breathless.

They'd die for each other.

They nearly had.

You nearly wondered what that felt like: being so in tune with someone your whole body lit up when they entered a room. Yet the echo of the door swinging open—a cheer of a voice you recognized - yanked the breath from your lungs. Seconds passed like hours, and the hair on the back of your neck stood to attention, as you turned. Already searching the crowd for that someone—the other half of your cosmic connection.

If you had a favorite color before catching sight of his eyes, you couldn't remember it. The inclination of your favorite song was diminished the second his laughter fell upon your senses. You suddenly couldn't recall a day where you didn't breathe for him, where your life didn't hold meaning unless you shared a smile and said hello. He'd become the sun, and you found you didn't mind being dragged into his gravitational pull. As long as you could orbit around him without end.

"Penny!" Harvard yelled over the noise of Rooster doing encore number three of Great Balls of Fire. "Three beers please and thank you!"

You smiled into your beer, the bitter flavor flooding your taste buds as a third member of the dynamic duo appeared in their midst. His head turning, eyes flicking through the throng of people, as he searched rapidly. He smiled at Yale, nodded his head at a woman who rammed into him, and finally caught your gaze with a deep exhale.

And suddenly...you could breathe properly again.

He mumbled his farewells, snuck the beer off the counter, and slipped quietly towards you.

People believed he remained silent because Harvard and Yale were loud enough for him. You found he had plenty to say. As long as someone was willing to listen. If it were up to you, he'd never stop talking. Simply so you could hear the deep echo of his voice on a constant loop. Your favorite tune, ever since he caught your eye at basic training. The question of an empty chair beside you suddenly turning into so much more.

"You're still in your flight suit," you said, hoping the light airiness of your voice was enough to avoid thinking about how your skin turned hot the second he showed up.

When it came to Fritz...you became aware of yourself in a way that didn't exist. How you moved, how you spoke.

Before him you were in darkness. He simply figured out how to turn on the switch and allow light in.

"Yeah," he let out another breath, sipping at his beer. You tracked the drip of condensation that fell on his neck, your stomach twisting at the sight. "We got the ritual speech of why we didn't go. You know the one."

"Ah. The I'm sorry but you're still a great pilot speech."

He smiled and the ground vanished beneath you. "That exact one actually."

"I'm sure he...added a cherry on top of the bullshit."

Fritz choked, laughter spilling from his lips like a contagion you longed to catch. When he felt joy, you partook. When he laughed, you couldn't help yourself. He was an addiction. The reason why you even came to San Diego in the first place.

Whether he knew that was a different story altogether.

"I'm guessing you made it out early." His eyes fell to your white sundress, red flowers sprinkled along the near sheer fabric. "Nice dress," he mumbled into his drink, eyes a bit darker than before as they trailed upwards, stopping briefly at the way it was pulled into a tie above your breasts.

You'd done it into a mess of a bow, hoping the look didn't resemble too much of a present. His gaze barely came up to your eyes before falling again, transfixed by the sight. And you found you didn't mind if he unwrapped you with the same glee as a kid on his birthday. You wanted him to.

"Thanks," you replied softly, the quick echo of your heart deafening against the noise of the bar.

Rooster's name was being chanted like a prayer, his body shimmying and swaying as he began to start up another round of the same song. People were more than happy to sing along with him. Until the familiar hum of the jukebox prickled in the air, a slow song blaring from the speakers. You leaned up on your toes, eyes catching the sight of Hangman appearing from the back of it with a glare on his face. His middle finger directed towards a half drunk Rooster; who met him with a finger of his own.

"Serves Rooster right," you began, turning back to Fritz with a flutter of your skirt. "That would have been number four."

He snorted. "Only Rooster wouldn't get hit for that."

"Oh I'm pretty sure Hangman was five seconds away from it."

The Penguins crooned softly as people began to calm slightly, dispersing to tables and disappearing out the back towards the firepit. And you stood there silently with Fritz, your beer now tepid and disgusting. If you had the chance, you'd have asked him to head out to the firepit, but he turned back towards the bar. Probably for one more drink.

"Right." You pulled at the skirt of your dress.

You wanted to play it back, say something entirely different. Ask him to join you by the fire pit with another beer in his right hand and your palm in his left. But the words were stuck like molasses in the back of your throat, fighting against release. Phoenix was begrudgingly dancing with Bob, her lips refusing a smile that you knew lingered beneath the surface. And Fanboy sat beside Payback, crooning the lyrics as best they could.

The temptation to join them pulled at your chest, an echo of that yearning for comradery appearing again. Perhaps if you asked Fritz he'd say yes. You could follow their lead, enjoy the night before you went your separate ways once more.

You could pretend to be whole for one night.

And life would feel worth living.

"Hey Avalone—" You were stopped short by the sight of his hand stretched towards yours, his lips in a small smile that screamed hope. That pleaded for an answer to this unspoken question.

Like the rest of them...you replied silently. With the belief that words simply weren't enough in this situation.

Slipping your hand into his, you allowed him to lead you towards the empty spot near Phoenix and Bob. Dazed and slightly worried that the singular beer you drank was affecting you more than it should. Even as the actual reason had your hand clasped tight. You wanted to ask what effect he held over you, what intangible bond he created without your knowledge. It might give you an explanation as to why you felt this way: stuck in a dream filled haze, with only his light to guide you out.

And maybe one day Fritz would tell you he gripped you so tight for fear of him tripping. Maybe he'd finally explain why he told you so much, why his body buzzed the second you walked in a room. Maybe he'd tell you that he suspected he loved you after watching you fly a jet, but knew he loved you when you nearly toppled him over playing volleyball on the beach.

But for now...he expressed what he could without words. Afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd say the wrong ones.

With a swift turn, he tugged you closer on unsteady feet. A full smile pulling at his lips when you grasped his shoulders for balance.

He wouldn't let you fall. Not here...not in the sky as your wingman, and certainly not out of the love you felt for him. People said this emotion was fleeting. A lost fictitious hope that merely existed with words on a page, but there was no denying how his heart grew warmer when you were near. How he knew he could speak to you for hours at a time, yet never run out of things to say.

You were it.

That indescribable thing no one could give a name to.

"I didn't take you for the dancing type," you joked, swallowing around your nerves that jumped across your skin.

He stepped closer, his arm slipping around your waist. The way your chest hitched didn't go unnoticed by him; although rather than mention it, he put you out of your misery and kept speaking.

"I'm not."

"Let me guess...it's the song?"

He shrugged, swaying you into a gentle step you could follow with ease. "Well...it's not not the song."

A quick glance over told you that the Daggers were eyeing the both of you with great interest. As if you and Fritz were the entertainment they'd been searching for all night. The turning point of a love story they'd been a part of for years. The page sat ready to be turned, the final line of the novel practically burning a hole through the back cover, yet you couldn't read what it said.

"So it's...only the song?"

"No." If it were any other night, you'd be sharing a plate of nachos at a booth somewhere in the back. He'd be three stories deep into a conversation, and you'd be falling a bit harder the longer you listened.

Tonight however, he seemed—nervous.

"No?" You wanted to pry open his thoughts, see what he believed this was—what you were to him.

"If it wasn't the song? If I asked you because of something else, what would you do?" His hand clutched yours a bit tighter, the familiar callous on the base of his wrist helped keep you grounded.

"Depends on what it is." You sucked in a breath. "Will I...I've been thinking—"

"Yes?"

Your eyes met his softened gaze, the echo of an emotion you couldn't place shone in the deep brown. And you wanted to beg him to explain it to you. To tell you everything he'd never said out loud, in the hopes they mimicked what you held near and dear to your heart every day.

"Ever since I've known you...um..." Getting it out felt as if you were attempting to delicately attempt a surgery - prying them free from your chest with a chisel. "Actually since the day we met...fuck...it's not easy to say."

He tugged you a bit closer as he turned. "I know." He smiled, eyes falling to your lips, the curve of their shape, how they formed around his name. "It's not just the song. It's you."

Breathing no longer existed as the beat of your heart went haywire. Could he feel the pulse of it on your wrist? The way it bent and twisted as if leaping from your chest. You wanted to respond, tell him all the things that went unspoken, but once he found his words...they refused to go unheard.

"It's always been you. I should have told you before tonight. Believe me—I wanted to. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you." He let out a soft breathy laugh and you could practically taste his words on your tongue. "And I think you knew."

"Will..." Your teeth sunk into the flesh of your bottom lip, eyes falling to his as the words you longed to hear finally left them.

"I love you." The sting of tears burned your eyes, your hand clutching his shoulder harder as he kept going. "Since the first day." He laughed nervously and an image of him, you, and a house flashed through your mind. "Well actually. The day you knocked me on my ass playing volleyball is when I knew for sure."

"Yeah?" you murmured, fighting back the stream of tears.

He seemed to catch how the light illuminated them, his hand slipping from yours to cup your cheek. "Yeah. Only my girl could be that competitive."

His girl.

The story was written the day you greeted him with a smile. The ending inscribed into your futures with permanent ink, carved into the rock of your headstones. And you could see it now—the familiar dip in the road that matched his perfectly. Falling in love with Fritz was always in the cards. A play you had no choice but to make.

He was your forever the second you shared the same oxygen.

"Fritz..."

He smiled, thumb running across the apple of your cheek. "Yeah baby?"

Chills ran down your spine as heat spilled into your stomach. The polarity of the two nearly toppled you to the ground, but he held you tight. Unwilling to let you go.

The song was slowly coming to the final chorus—the noise of the bar didn't register to your ears anymore as you hung onto his every word. Desperate for him to say those three words over and over and over. Until he lost all the breath in his lungs.

"I hope you know I love you."

His lips pulled into a smile that held your attention in its grasp. What you wouldn't give to see that every morning and night. To be the sole reason why something so beautiful appeared. He smiled and you felt the gravity beneath your feet give way, your stomach bursting to life with a flurry of butterflies.

"I should have said it before this mission. Or even a year ago. But I was scared you didn't feel the same wa—"

With a soft chuckle, he dipped down slightly, catching your lips with his softly. And every thought, every explanation you could give him, died on your tongue. He was gentle with you, as if this was a new version of the dance you'd shared throughout the years. The steps, familiar yet foreign enough to trip you up. It wasn't until you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, your hand finding its way to the hair on the base of his neck, did the hesitation fall away.

He itched to haul you to his chest and properly kiss you. But the burn of eyes prickled along his back. There was an audience, witnesses to the first step into your future, and Fritz felt himself tense slightly. If he had a choice, he'd show you how long he wanted this. How he ached for this.

He'd make up for lost time.

The song filtered to an end, a new one he couldn't place starting up. He refused to pull away.

With a sigh, you melted into his hold, a noise echoing in the back of your throat as his tongue slid along yours. The tang of his beer mixing with yours. He kissed you with the promise of more, the knowledge that tonight you'd take his hand and follow him home. You felt his hand bunch the skirt at your back, fingers digging into your waist, and you moaned softly—desperate for his skin to sear yours.

"Get a room, lovebirds!" Hangman shouted, leaning against the jukebox beer in hand. Yet he let the quarter in his hand slide through the slot, another love song clicking to life as he complained with a smile.

Fritz jolted back, his lips swollen and vibrating. He could still taste you on his tongue, still hear the echo of your moan in his head. You looked dazed, almost lovestruck. And suddenly he understood what it really meant to be hungry.

"Remind me to thank Hangman later," he mumbled against your lips, addicted to the way they curved beneath his.

"He'll take credit for this."

He shrugged. "I'm okay with that."

You locked your other arm around his neck, nose brushing his as you eyed his lips. The red stain on his cheeks had your heart skipping as many beats as it could. What you wouldn't give to have a picture of him like this. Stuck in a haze of love that you put him in.

With a stupefied grin, you felt him start to lead you through the next dance. The steps perfectly in tune with his—as it was always meant to be. "So am I."

[its-storminghere]

Carcar accidental baby acquisition where Carlos ends up taking in a baby and Oscar is the one to help him out

Okay so this trope can be really hard for me because for the life of me I don’t know how they get that baby but I’m doing this for you!! Sorry it’s actually about a toddler not a baby

Okay so Lando is hosting a big family event not related to F1, maybe his wedding (you can pick your own adventure on this one) Some F1 people are there including Oscar and Carlos but it’s a big group of people. Oscar and Carlos make some small talk at a couple of points but really they’re just mingling and enjoying the afternoon.

The children in lando’s family l o v e Carlos sooo much. He’s just the ideal of what a cool race car driver should be (as opposed to Lando who is just uncle Lando who likes to play video games and play golf with the adults, sorry Lando), but even better than that he’s FUN and he plays GAMES with them and he brings his DOG!! He’s been around enough over the years that the kids are devoted to him and obviously he loves being loved and he loves family

So plot plot plot, dialogue dialogue dialogue, Oscar is chatting with Lando and Carlos is near them getting a toddler game of footie going. Of course all the moms (and some of the dads) are all gooey-eyed about how good carlos is with the kids. Truly my own ovaries are screaming as I write this

And Oscar is seeing this and internally rolling his eyes because ohhh yes isn’t Carlos just the greatest, he’s so perfect with his hair and his driving like an asshole and his sexy voice - He hears enough about that at work, and now that they’ve been running into each other on the track all of his interviews mention Carlos too. But, he thinks, whatever, I’m here to support Lando in this unspecified special event

But then!!! The few security guys Lando hired are telling everyone to get inside because apparently there’s INTRUDERS who broke in that want to cause people harm!!! (Idk man)

So in the shuffle and the chaos one of the little kids attaches herself to Carlos and won’t let go!! Because her parents always told her to stay with trustworthy adults and she trusts Carlos!! He let her play footie even though she’s younger than the other kids!!

And someone the two of them end up with Oscar smushed into a small bathroom. And they’re trying to be quiet but the little girl is scared!! And Carlos sees that and he brushes her hair off her face and hushes her. It can be like a game!! He tells her. We’ll play with Oscar. I have to hide and you have to find me! The little girl’s sniffling stops and she looks up at them. Carlos looks at Oscar like back me up here man.

What’s Oscar gonna do but go along?? So he shows her how to cover her eyes with her hands and they count to 5 very slowly together so Carlos can “hide.” When they open their eyes the little girl immediately starts giggling because look Os-cah!!! Mr. Carlos is right there!! He’s hiding behind the shower curtain!!

And Oscar and Carlos make such a big deal about her winning and they tell her how smart she is. But now the game is over and they still haven’t gotten the ok to leave. So, Oscar says it’s his turn to hide, and while Carlos and the little girl count, he crouches behind Carlos’s broad back. He’s eye level with the hair just curling down Carlos’s muscular neck.

Before he knows it the 5 seconds are up and the little one is looking for him. Carlos looks at her very seriously, points behind himself, and winks. Then he turns and dives onto Oscar, wrapping his arms around Oscar’s torso and pulling him around so the girl can see him. And as Oscar feels Carlos’s big hands holding him, he’s like. Woah. Okay. Maybe Carlos is that great

And then the little girl hides and both guys pretend they can’t find her until they get the okay to go back outside. And they bring the girl back to her parents and she immediately informs them that Mr Carlos and Mr os-cah are her new best friends forever and they all need to have a playdate right now. Oscar is looking over at Carlos and thinking, yeah, maybe the two of us do need to have a playdate

[autisticlancemcclain]

“I know, buddy, I know.” Keith scratches behind his big dumb dog’s ears, pressing a million kisses to his forehead because he’s got Black to himself for the next day and there’s no one (Shiro) to clown him for it. Kosmo barks excitedly, wagging his floofy tail so fast it beats against the dashboard and system controls. Keith laughs, moving his scratching fingers down the wolf’s head and neck and to his back, where he likes to be scratched best.

“I know you’re hyper, huh?” he coos, blowing a raspberry. “But that’s what you get. You know you always get too excited when you hang out with Lance. You should have stayed with me.”

At the mention of the Red Paladin’s name, Kosmo starts howling, bounding out from Keith’s lap and tumbling to the floor, nails clacking against the metal as he flips around Black’s cockpit.

Keith huffs. “You raise a wolf from a pup, showering him in treats and affection, and you still fall second best to the first guy he meets who teaches him to fetch. Figures.”

It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Two straight years together on the space whale, but Kosmo lays eyes on Lance for one measly second and falls in love. He’s genuinely obsessed with the guy, and it doesn’t help that Lance is unbelievably smug about it, indulging Kosmo’s every whim and burst of affection just to grate on Keith. He has on twelve seperate occasions radioed the Black Lion to talk to Kosmo only, completely ignoring Keith.

“I can’t blame ya,” Keith says quietly. His voice is still a little teasing, still a little exasperated, but even he can hear the gooey fondness in it. “Lance is just that good, huh?”

Kosmo barks again, loud and fast, then flashes as he blips out of existence then back into existence right on Keith’s lap. Keith chokes as 200 pounds of floof is suddenly deposited on his person, but recovers quickly. (Kosmo will never remember that he is no longer a little puppy. Keith is just going to have to get used to having his lungs crushed.)

He starts to stroke Kosmo’s fur again, gently this time, calming him down.

“I should say something,” he says, more to himself than to his dog. “Ugh. I mean, it’s Lance, right? He’s my best friend. He’ll most definitely tease me, but he won’t, like, mock me or anything. He’s good like that. He knows exactly when to be serious, like during that last gala thing we had when we landed on a planet a while back. He just knew I was feeling off, just like that.”

Keith buried his face in Kosmo’s fur, hiding his smile. “He’s just…everything, you know? I’m always thinking about him. I have been for years. Hell, I talked about him so much on that stupid whale that you recognised him before you even met him, buddy. That’s objectively bonkers. But I can’t…” He sighs, leaning back in the pilot seat and staring unseeingly through the windshield. A red dot flashes gently at the bottom corner, but he pays it no mind.

“He’s sweet when no one’s looking. And even when people are looking, sometimes. And I’ll die before I even imply it in his direction, but he’s funny, too. And his fucking brain, dear God, that man could outwit anyone if he was under enough pressure. He saved our asses more than once when we were stumbling our way through this co-leading thing in the beginning. And anyone with eyes can tell that he’s hot.” Keith’s ears burn a little, thinking of the Coalition videos. “Seriously hot. And…leggy.”

He cracks up, embarrassed giggles bubbling up his throat. His next words are muffled by the hand he has pressed to his face. “God, I want him to fuck me up.”

Kosmo raises his head from where it was resting on Keith’s knee, staring at him in what Keith can only assume is judgment.

“Shut up,” Keith says hotly. “You once farted so loud you scared yourself and cried for ten minutes. You don’t get to judge me about being embarrassing.”

Keith is losing it. He is defending his character to a dog. He groans loudly, dragging his hand down his face.

“I should tell him, shouldn’t I,” he mutters. “Just — come out with it. ‘Leandro Esposita-McClain, I am in love with you.’ Straight to the point. Rip off the band-aid.”

Kosmo yips quietly. Keith snorts.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s crazy. He’s my friend, I don’t want to ruin things. I’ll just suffer in silence the next time he looks at me and the fuckin’ sun bleeds into his eyes and makes them look like golden honey or whatever. Jesus.” He reaches for his book and props it open, muttering to himself. “It’s always the fuckin’ pretty ones that get me, huh?”

Kosmo barks loudly in what can only be agreement, and Keith scoffs, flicking him on the shout. “Yeah, yeah, you lug. Bug off with the teasing and let me read in peace, alright? I’ll tell him someday. He doesn’t need to know now.”

.

.

.

(A beep echoes through the Red Lion’s cockpit as her paladin slams on the ‘call end’ button, eyes wide and chest heaving, having listened curiously when he’d been radioed out of nowhere mid-conversation between the Bladk Paladin and his dog. And then listened in shock as the Black Paladin had brought up him. Brought up being in love with him, with his heart and his eyes and his legs, apparently.

Red blooms on his cheeks.)

———

based on this post by @petricorah

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - Chapter 4 - Gooey Sneak Peek

Here's a sneak peek at chapter 4, which should be released sometime this weekend! People are starting to notice Joel's affection towards our favorite IT girlie...

"What's up with you and Sugar?" Sarah casually strolls over to Joel's desk, perching her hip on the edge as she hands him a cup of coffee. "Maria said she saw the two of you at the mall yesterday," peering over him as he nervously takes a sip of his coffee, "… during working hours. She said you guys seemed mighty close and all, I guess she wasn't sick like Tess said?" Joel chokes mid-sip, coughing out the hot coffee as Sarah smirks at him. "So it's true, then?" "I guess I can't hide anything from you, baby girl," Joel replies in between coughs. "Should have known I can't get anything past you." "Well, I made a wild guess you were into her, being that I heard you singing 'Pour some Sugar on me" in the shower the other day. "It was being played on the radio, can't control what they decide to play, you know?" Sarah gives him a knowing glance as she makes herself comfortable on the chair in front of him. "Dad, the radio stations don't put music on repeat." She fiddles with the sleeves of her sweater absentmindedly, her face deep in thought. "It wouldn't be a bad thing, you know? You and Sugar. She seems like a very sweet girl. Kind of shy, but I like her." Joel arches an eyebrow. "Do you now?" She shrugs. "I mean, she is kind of young, but age is just a number, right? It's not like she's in her 20s. Besides, Ellie is obsessed with her. She's always at her office, picking her mind about her thoughts on 80s music. She's a good influence on her." Joel nods. "Ellie- I worry about her sometimes. Lord knows that I try to do right by her, adopting her and all that. Sometimes I think she needs-" "… a feminine touch?" "Something like that." Joel smiles to himself, his eyes still locked on his iPad as he continues his redline revisions to be sent off to the draftsmen. "I think her being surrounded by Tommy and I makes her too-" "Feral?" Sarah quips, chuckling. "Rough around the edges? Aggressive? It comes with the territory, I guess, with no mother figure around, you know?" she picks a hangnail. "Tommy said that she nearly castrated a client on the job site the other day for asking her out on a date." "That jerk was asking for it." Joel retorts, his back stiffening. "You adjusted well enough without a mother." Sarah sighs. "It doesn't mean it was easy, though. It would have been nice, you know? There's just things that I can't talk to a guy about, as much as you tried to be there for me." "This thing with Sugar, It's new - but I know what I feel for her." Sarah nods. "You don't need to give me all the details. I trust you, and if she's someone you want to pursue, I won't be mad about it, if that's what you're thinking. Like I said, she's a nice girl." "She's… fuck, Sarah, she's amazing. She takes my breath away, every time she smiles at me. Fuck. I feel like a teenager, being around her. I don't know what it is, but I always want to be by her side." Joel chuckles, smiling at Sarah. "I'm crazy about her." "Well, you must be if you're out here buying Teslas like you would coffee." Joel leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh? I wasn't aware that she bought a new car." Sarah crosses her arms, a skeptical look in her eyes. "Dad, you do realize I handle HR, right? I know what everyone's making. I find it hard to believe she's casually splurging on a Tesla, especially a Model X."

[bow-of-aros]

Day Two: Chase

Summary:

Ted made the grave mistake of smiling at his phone, so now Peter needs to know who he was talking to.

Ted is going to KILL him.

-

Alrighty so I've become completely obsessed with these two and this prompt screamed loving asshole older brother Ted Spankoffski. UGH I love them they're both so babygirl. Anyways apparently this month is me writing for new fandoms so enjoy!!

-

“Get back here you little shit!”

The little shit in question swung around the corner of their shoebox of an apartment faster than Ted could grab him.

Peter shoved himself behind their sorry excuse for a dinner table, Ted’s phone in his hand, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The Spankoffski special.

“Oh come on! How old are you? Fucking five?! Get out from there and give me my phone back!” Ted faked a lunge to the left. Peter lurched to the right.

He is going to kill this kid.

His fuck-ass kid brother starts swiping through his phone, glancing up every other second in order to keep an eye on Ted.

“Look. If you’re not going to tell me why you’re looking all gooey-mushy at your phone, I’m just gonna have to figure it out myself!”

Ted can feel his face warm, so in a desperate attempt to hide it, he thinks fuck it, and fucking vaults over the table.

The screech that Peter let out was going to be something that Ted would hold over his head for the rest of his goddamn life. He’s almost proud of the self-preservation instincts on the kid as he basically dives under the table and scrambles to his feet, taking off again.

Except for the fact that he still has his fucking phone!

“Peter! When I catch you you’re fucking dead! Do you hear me?!” There’s no way that he couldn’t, there’s not exactly a lot of space. They’re basically just running in loops at this point.

“Just tell me who you were texting, Ted!” And there’s no chance that that’s happening.

So, the fifth time that Peter manages to dodge Ted’s snatching hands—which shouldn’t be possible because Ted is older and Peter is supposed to be lanky and clumsy. Where the fuck did the kid who tripped when he even looked at a corner go?!—Ted decides to employ a new tactic.

“Alright! Fucking fine I’ll tell you! Just give me my phone back asswipe!”

They’re in the living room. Peter is holding onto his still-unlocked phone with two hands which seems a little excessive, and he’s standing like he’s ready to run away if Ted even twitches in his direction.

“Tell me first, then I’ll give you your phone back.”

They’re both heaving for breath, and Ted is now in a very precarious position. He has to give Peter enough that he’ll let his guard down so he can get his phone back without actually giving anything away. If Pete is anything like himself, which of course he is, he’ll never let Ted live this down.

He relaxes his stance, dragging a hand over his face and letting out a defeated groan. Peter immediately lets his guard down because he’s gullible as shit, which is exactly what Ted knew he was going to do. They’ve played this game so many times and his kid brother still never learns.

Now to set the bait.

“I might have been, maybe, very possibly, totally hypothetically, just a little bit—”

“Oh my God Ted just spit it out!”

Bingo. Peter’s eyes are shining, he’s leaning forward, he probably thinks that he’s finally going to get some dirt on his older brother.

Not today.

“Talking to,” Ted pauses and takes a deep breath, “Your mom.”

And as the confusion flashes across his face, that’s when Ted pounces.

He grabs ahold of Peter’s arms and starts trying to wrestle the phone from him which should not be as difficult as it is. Pete’s hands are in a constant state of sweaty, so Ted should not be having this problem.

“Give me the phone, shithead!”

“We have the same mom you freak!”

Of course that’s what he was focused on.

At this point, Peter’s basically folded himself in half around Ted’s phone and Ted is getting real sick of this shit. He throws all caution to the wind and starts worming one of his hands between Peter’s arm and his stomach, holding the kid to his chest with the other arm.

And then, Peter shrieks.

“Hey, Petey?” Ted can basically hear the evil smirk spreading across his face as he speaks, “Do you feel like giving me my phone back yet?”

And all pride that Ted had felt in Peter’s self-preservation instincts goes flying out the window as he responds with, “You can take your phone, and shove it up your—wait! Tehehehed you ahahass! Don’t!”

Ted’s given up on grabbing his phone, now pouring all his focus into clawing at his baby brother’s stomach until he fucking cries.

“Yeah? That’s how you feel like playing this?” He has to raise his voice to be heard above Peter’s cackles, “Keep holding on. Let’s see which one of us can last longer.”

In a few more seconds, after Ted moves to the hotspot that is Peter’s ribs, it turns out that it’s Ted who can last longer.

Fucking obviously. He’s the big brother!

“Alright! Alright you wihihin! Teddy plehehehease!”

Ted’s gonna go right ahead and pretend that he didn’t melt a little when Peter called him Teddy for the first time in who knows how long. He has an image to maintain!

His phone thuds on the ground and Ted, the gracious guy he is, makes sure that Peter’s not gonna collapse the second he lets go before scooping it up. He promptly turns it off—how the hell is the thing still on?— and slips it in his back pocket.

“Well, kid, you gave it your best shot,” Ted pats Peter on the back, giggles still leaking out of him as he tries and fails to wipe the grin off his face, “I’m almost impressed, but no dice. Better luck next time!”

When he turns to walk away, Peter grabs onto his wrist. Lightly enough that Ted could pull away if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

“Come on, Teddy. Would you please just tell me why you were literally giggling at your phone?”

Peter’s tone loses his teasing edge as he finishes, “I just wanna know what’s making you so happy.”

And, damn. Ted’s not sure if it’s Pete calling him Teddy, or the lingering smile, or the way those fucking puppy-dog eyes look up at him the same way they used to back when Peter was four and wanted Ted to take him out for ice cream, but he cracks.

Shit, he really is a softie.

“Well, if you must know,” Ted straightens up, dusting imaginary lint off his shoulders, “I was talking to my boyfriend.”

And then he bolts.

“WHAT?! BOYFRIEND?!” Peter’s outraged shout punctuates Ted’s maniacal cackles as the chase begins once more. “THEODORE SPANKOFFSKI YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE I SWEAR TO GOD!”

Ah, how the tables turn. And, to be fair, this isn’t the worst way he could be spending the afternoon.

Maybe Ted should hide behind the dinner table.

[goatcheesecak3]

HELLO I HAVE A REQUEST

WOULD IT BE OKAY IF U WROTE SPECS X TRANS GUY READER???

like maybe reader comes out to specs and theres just a whole lotta fluff?

it totally okay if no ofc have a good day :)

Coming out

Specs x Ftm!reader

Warnings: none

Fic type: fluff

Summary: you come out to your boyfriend, Specs

A/n hello! This was such a sweet request! I'm not a trans guy myself, so I hope I did the experience justice! Also I should preface with the fact that I hc specs as being autistic, so there's indirect references to that in here too :^)

"Uh.. specs?" You said, nervously approaching your boyfriend.

Specs was sat hunched over at his desk, painting a warhammer figure in excruciating detail.

"Uh huh?" He said without looking up.

"I need to talk to you about something important"

Specs turned to look at you, his face seemingly concerned- although you could never really get a great read on what his facial expressions meant, he wasn't very good at non verbal cues.

With a deep breath, fumbling with your hands anxiously you bit the bullet and told him the truth that you'd been hiding.

"I think - no - I KNOW, I'm not a girl. I'm a man." You blew out, puffing your cheeks up, realising how hot your face got when you were nervous, "I'm a transgender man and I can't pretend I'm not anymore".

When you were met with silence, you slowly dared to make eye contact with specs, terrified that you would be faced with a horrified look on his face. Instead, his expression was entirely neutral.

"Approximately 1.03% of adults in the U.S identify as transgender" he replied calmly.

Your face twisted in bewilderment, what the hell kind of response was that?!

"Is that your only take away?" You said, sounding a little less afraid, but a lot more confused.

Specs began to chew absent mindedly on his paintbrush for a second, looking up to the ceiling in thought, before looking back at you.

"Would you like to start borrowing my clothes?"

To anyone else, this might have seemed like an incredibly mundane response, but you knew specs very well. As a rule, he NEVER let other people wear his clothes, he had very strict rules for how he liked his clothes to feel and he didn't trust that other people wearing them wouldn't "taint" that clean feeling. But here he was, so willing to to make an exception in the rule for you, just to let you know that he approved. Specs wasn't the best with the overly gooey romantic stuff, but in all honesty this meant a lot more.

"So I take it you're okay with this?" You said, cracking a small smile

"I was unaware that you were asking for my permission" specs replied, seeming far more taken aback by this than your "shocking" revelation.

You let out a small laugh and approached him, letting him gently wrap his arms around you.

"You know this would mean that I'd be your boyfriend now, and not your girlfriend, right?" You asked, making sure everything was clarified properly.

"Of course. I might not understand all the ins and outs of this at first, but we can learn as we go. You know how much I love learning new things," specs looked up at you, his eyes full of love, "as long as you're happy. I love you"

You smiled down, enjoying the tender moment.

"I love you too"

The two of you held eachother in a comforting embrace for a minute or so, and when the moment passed, specs was the one to break the silence.

"Uh... when I said you can borrow my clothes.. my socks are still off limits. I've seen the way you treat yours"

You let out a small chuckle and kissed the top of his head

"Alright babe, it's a deal"

[ramu-ego]

Helloo it's Ness anon💜 seeeing Ness in the new chapter leaks made me sad (fuck Kaiser, all my homies hate kaiser 🤬) so can you do Ness with feminization and hand kink?

chapter 202?? (or something dropped about 203??) god I skimmed it but I haven't like looked at it in depth except Kenyu my baby you best boy (it's true all the homies do hate Kaiser)

event ~ ♡ (closed) cw: fem!Reader, dom!Reader, crossdressing, m!masturbation, guided masturbation, degradation, feminization, referring to Ness's dick as a clit, unedited word count: drabble character(s): Alexis Ness

DNI :: minors, blank blogs + m!Reader blogs

"You love rubbing your clit for me don't you baby girl?"

Chewing the inside of his cheek there was nothing Ness could do but nod slowly as his hand worked up the length of his shaft to his swollen gland. One hand squelching the jelly like lube around his throbbing cock as he did so. While the other held up his beautifully pleated skirt so you could see it all out on display. Of course looking down at himself, with his mop of thick hair crowding his face to hide his desperate fucked out looked as he continued to stroke himself in front of you on his knees.

"Excuse me?" You reached out and grabbed the wrist connected to the hand squeezing up his own cock, "Does baby girl not know how to answer anymore? Should I show you how to rub your own little clit huh?"

"S-Sorry-" Ness managed when you stopped him from edging himself further, "Sorry- Yes- Yes I-"

"Yes you...?"

"Yes I love rubbing my clit for you ma'am." Ness babbled with his head following suit. Nodding like a cute little bobble head was all he could do as a grin spread on your face at his obedience, "Please. Please show me how to rub my clit ma'am. It hurts when it throbs...."

Loosening the grip on his wrist to a kinder one. Didn't alleviate the control you held over his body. Without concern for how he'd been stroking himself before hand. You took it at a speed you found more fitting for someone as desperate. Guiding his own closed hand up and down his shaft with the squelch of lube filling the room. Ness flush with color in his pretty little features as you did so. Vividly feeling the throb of his own cock when you moved his slimy hand to the tip of his cock and demanded he squeeze it a bit. Past his lips fell a pitiful moan that only confirmed your suspicions when a foggy bead of precum began to ooze out of his puffy slit.

"You know..." Mumbling as you ushered his closed fist up and down his length as more and more cloudy precum leaked from his slit. Each time his own hand swiped over his sensitive gland his balls would tighten up and his breathing would hitch in his chest. Only for you to draw his touch back down by your own guidance and restart the process all over again, "Some girls squirt...you gonna squirt your juices all over your pretty pretty skirt for me?" Your touch ushered his hand back up to his tip. When Ness held his breath waiting for you to guide him back down, his eyes grew wide realizing you weren't moving his hand away from his tip. A ticking time bomb as you encouraged him to keep squeezing his cock head while you stared at him with a grin, "Squirt all your pretty girl juices for me. I know you can do it. Make a mess like a naughty girl and- Oh! Oh there we are!"

There was no stopping it. Ness's legs trembling and the breath he'd been stealing away choked him as he gasped. Body trembling while you forced him to hold his own cock. The first thick rope of cum landing on your thighs. Follow by a dribble of a pathetic load while beads of thick gooey cum ran down his lube covered cock. Not mixing as you refused to let him stroke himself. Ness had to give into the mercy of his tightening body to let his orgasm finally play out to it's last little bit of drooling cum to roll down his shaft. Utterly exhausting him as he sat back on his knees limply with a sigh. Head hung low. He didn't even have it in him to look up and see what you were doing. All he knew was after all that his poor cock was still throbbing for more.

[oneforthemunny]

What about Janitor Eddie comforting reader after she had the baby and she’s feeling insecure about her body with the changes. Like I know he loves her no matter what

he's be so sad because he's obsessed with her no matter what. like not even on a "your personality is what makes you beautiful" like yes, he agrees, but also he think you are the prettiest person in the world. like the most beautiful and amazing, and every time you put yourself down it makes him so sad. genuinely sad, so for all of you who want to say bad things about yourself, picture saying it to janitor!eddie and his eyes get so sad and I hope you stop yourself!!!

but especially after/when you're pregnant. he's mind boggled that you think you're not a goddess, because to him, you are. a warrior, a goddess, the most amazing, strongest, beautiful thing on the planet. everyone around you should feel lucky that they're in you're presence because do they even appreciate that they're with the nicest, kindest, strongest, most beautiful being in creation???

he'd do anything for you. for your babies too. when she's throwing a little pity party about stretch marks, hiding while she feeds olivia, and disappearing to the bathroom to change he's like????

"baby, what's wrong?" eddie would ask after you got the kids to sleep. "is it your stitches? or do you need to pump? or need your cream?"

you're just standing, tears streaming while you cup your stretched skin. "I'm sorry," you mutter, turning to him with watery eyes. "I know this isn't... this isn't who you wanted to be with, and I swear I'll start eating better and-and doing more. I've just been so tired, ed, and-"

"what?" eddie asks, flinching and head shaking in genuine shock. "what are you talking about?"

"me." you croak, tears flooding down your cheeks and blurring your vision. "I didn't realize that-that it wouldn't go back to normal after I had her, and-and I'm sorry. you don't deserve to look at this, and see me like this. I'm sorry you have to see this."

"don't." eddie's voice is hard, stern- a tone you very rarely ever hear from him. his lips are pressed together, nearly angry, upset. your heart hammers for the worst. "did I... did I say something or do something that made you feel like this?" eddie asks softly, his own face crumpling.

you shake your head, sucking in a shuddering breath. "no, but-but look at me, ed-"

"yeah, I can't stop looking at you, baby." eddie says, not missing a beat. "you just had a baby. my baby. our baby." eddie whispers. "you had her in your body and brought her here all safe and sound, and-and you think I'd be..." he can't even finish the sentence, shaking his head and hand sliding down his face.

"I think you're beautiful. I think you're even more beautiful now."

you roll your eyes lightly, swiping your tears away. "don't lie, eddie."

"I would never." eddie said fiercely. "I don't know how you could think I was lying when every time I see you, I-I want to scream and cry and kiss you and hold onto you and run in circles all at the same time because you're mine. like you're really mine." his eyes trap yours, holding your gaze fiercely.

"and I thought you were perfection on the day I met you, and every single day you just get better and it makes my brain want to explode because how can you be so perfect in every single fucking way." he's rambling, truthful words spilling out of him like a fountain, leaving you blushing and sniffling.

"then you married me, and-and then you had a kid with me- two kids? you want to be with me and you love me, and fuck, you're so hot. I mean, do you know how hard it is for me not to want to fuck you every second of the day? do you even know what you do to me? you sneezed the other day and I got a boner, and you think.... you think I'm not attracted to you?" you giggled, eyes rolling gently at his admission. it made you blush, made you feel warm and gooey and loved. so fucking loved.

his hand is on your hip, rubbing over the stretched flesh, squeezing it lightly, lovingly. "I don't know how you can't see what I see, but I'll keep trying to show you, because you're the most fucking mind blowing thing in my life... well, you and the kids, but you, baby. you're on another level that I'll never be on in my life."

you blush, looking down at his hand. "I think you're on that level." you mutter, feeling him pull you close, mindful of your sore boobs.

"no way." he muttered, nose buried in your hair. "and that's alright. I'm happy just to watch you be you for the rest of my life. you're my favorite thing in my whole life. nothings beatin' you, baby."

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 2-Atsushi/Fyodor w/ Crossdressing and Breathplay(yes, i know rarepare)

Notes: Just pretend they’ve met in canon, also don't ask me how so much talking can happen in a three minute song, just don't. Also the waltz is Shostokovich Waltz no 2(because obvi)

This is partly inspired by this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803525/chapters/57187927 but also just my imagination

“Excuse me, pretty miss.” This was so humiliating. “May I have your number?” Atsushi forced a smile and pitched his voice a little higher, just like Yosano had instructed. “I'm sorry sir, but I'm on a work trip. I'm afraid I can't accept any numbers or invitations.” The man slinked away sadly and Atsushi breathed a sigh of relief, carefully taking a sip of the drink in his hand. How had he gotten here, in the fancy ballroom surrounded by a bunch of drooling men. And most importantly, why was he dressed as a girl?

☠☠☠

“Dont worry Atsushi, you're going to look great!” Atsushi frowned, eyeing the hot iron Naomi was brandishing with apprehension. “Are you sure that's safe?” Naomi giggled, putting it down and picking up some silver hair extensions instead, talking with the other two over his head.

“Cute or sexy?” Naomi sounded way too excited. Yosano responded from her place across the room, looking through a rack of dresses. “Let's go with the unattainable sexy vibe. Maybe a slit dress and a fur?” Kyouka, the quietest, responded from her place beside Atsushi, filing his nails to even little rounds. “Black. He looks good in black.” She put down the filler, and picked up a small bottle of clear liquid, which she started spreading it on his nails. Yosano yanked a dress from the rack, and Atsushi could feel himself blushing all the way across the room. “This one?”

Naomi nodded, her hands pinning fake hair on Atsushi’s head. “Yeah that's perfect. Definitely going to attract a lot of attention. Should we go with pin straight or waves?”

“Waves I think, we're going for that sultry vibe.” Yosano responded. Kyouka was blowing on his nails now, finished with the first layer of gooey clear and moving on to a bottle of black paint. Two other bottles rested near her on the table, another clear and a shiny silver that sparkled in the light.

Yosano had hung the mortifying dress on a chair, and was pulling from a shelf of fur ruffs. She held up a tiger striped one, laughter in her eyes. “What do you guys think? Too obvious?” Naomi laughed, and even Kyouka giggled a bit. “Nah, it's perfect. Atsushi?” Atsushi startled, so used to them talking over him. He had to admit the ruff was funny, and if it could hide some skin he was all for it. “It's good Doctor Yosano.” She smiled, plucking the dress off the chair and tossing the entire thing at him. “Great, now go change please.”

The dress was as mortifying as he had expected it to be. It was a chinese design, with little clasps running along his collarbone, and short sleeves. It fit him like a glove, hugging his waist and hips snugly. The problem was the bottom half of the dress. It was divided in half, with two slits big enough for both his legs to show through falling all the way down the dress. He had to admit, it was a pretty easy outfit to run in, but the idea of showing so much skin in such a way was mortifying. The ruff was cute however, covering his shoulders and a bit of his arms. He slipped the small heals the girls had given him on and exited the room, and back into their clutches. Yosano whistles jokingly, while Naomi and Kyouka clapped enthusiastically. Atsushi blushed. Naomi was waving that weapon she called a hair curler around dangerously, and Atsushi spotted the cosmetics resting on the table. He sat on the chair they guided him to, surrendering to his fate. His eyes were closed, and the tap of brushed on his face was the only thing he felt for some time. As well as a concerning heat near his head but he was sure Naomi knew what she was doing.(He dearly hoped she did.)

The girls were talking over him again, but nothing of any importance, mostly chatting about different brands of makeup, and what perfume to use on him. And it was calming, at least until they informed him he was done, and he opened his eyes. He had to admit, he really did look like a girl. Or maybe a girl version of himself. They hadn't really transformed his features, just made his eyes appear bigger, the lashes longer. His lips were covered in a thin red glossy thing, and slightly sticky. They shone in the mirror, looking delicate and strange, but at the same time very beautiful. His hair was long and curled in big waves around his shoulders. The dress looked as mortifying as it felt, but the ruff helped hide the fact that he clearly didn't have any boobs.

Atsushi could recognize himself, but at the same time he could not at all. It was still embarrassing though. Three giggling women stood behind him, smirking. Yosano’s hand lands on his shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Now, it's time to test this baby out.” Atsushi feels a strong pulse of dread, as he's gripped tightly and dragged out of the room and towards the AdA office.

☠☠☠

One of the many reasons Yosano volaintered Atsushi for this job was the look on Dazai’s face, and hoo boy, he didn't disappoint. Shock, dead fucking shock with hints of arousal greated her as she and the girls dragged a dolled up Atsushi back into the front office. Kunikida’s expression was a treat too. More shock and arousal, mixed with cheeks the color of a tomato. Even Ranpo, sitting by the window as usual with a still wrapped lollipop in his hand, was so surprised an actual flicker of it showed on his face. Yosano was enjoying herself very much right now, and she knew the other girls were two. The only two men in the room who weren't a little turned on were the president and Kenji, and the pure shock on their faces made up for it. Yosano practically flew across the room, yanking the lollipop out of Ranpo’s hand, and unwrapping it, shoving it into Atsushi’s protesting mouth. He sent her a tiny little glare, but seemed to enjoy the lollipop, taking it out and licking it and definitely doing a number on the men in the room. Yosano was having a hard time holding back her laughter, Naomi as well, but Atsushi looked oblivious, going at his lollipop happily and oblivious to the state the room had been reduced to. Even if she had used up a good portion of the Agency’s budget on high quality hair extensions, she didn't regret a thing.

☠☠☠

And so here Atsushi was, dolled up and standing against the back wall of the grand ballroom, scanning the room for their target. He was supposedly a middle aged man with brown hair and green eyes, and apparently a total womanizer. That was why Atsushi was dolled up in the first place, the Agency had decided that it was safer to send Atsushi in than one of the women. And not safer for the women, no for the target. They were supposed to take him in, not kill him. Yosano had been the first option, but Kunikida had decided against it, because they all knew the moment the creep came close Yosano would(rightly) inflict some permanent damage. The same could be said for Kyouka, and anyway Atsushi didn't feel safe leaving here with some middle aged creep, and Naomi wasn't an option, because she didn't have a way to protect herself. So Yosano had joyfully suggested Atsushi, and here he was, at a grand ball, a living honey trap.

He sighed, leaning against the wall. At least it was pretty. The ballroom was gilded in gold, and the dancefloor was a whirl of skirts of different collars. The orchestra was raised on the side of the room, their instruments boosted with some kind of magic so the waltzes being played echoed loud enough for the entire room. The only odd thing about the picture was the strange ratio of men to women. The majority of the large crowd were men, and besides the seven or eight on the dancefloor, Atsushi spotted about twelve women in total. He suspected it had to do with the reputation of the host, and target of tonight's mission. John Remy was a businessman and a major creep, now also suspected of killing three women. And of course these missing women had been last spotted at these parties, so it wasn't a surprise that not many women were jumping at the chance to be a guest at said party.

The consequence of this decision was that Atsushi, one of the few ‘women’ not already with a partner, was subject to many requests to dance, lecherous stares, and bad pickup lines from a bunch of thirsty men. He could see the next one approaching now. Ice shot down his spine as he recognized the familiar face of Ango. Ango would totally recognize him, and then what? He needed to get away. He booked it away from the corner, as gracefully as he could while still trying to hurry, and towards the large crowd near the refreshment table.

In his hurry to get away, and in consequence that he was wearing heels, he smacked nose first into someone's shoulder. Temporarily blinded by white and fur, it took him a moment to realize exactly who it was he had bumped into. His heart leaped and fell at the same time as he took in that familiar grinning face surrounded by that familiar purple black hair and pale skin.

“My, what are you doing here little weretiger?” Fyodor’s accent was unmistakable, and erased any doubt that Atsushi might have had left that maybe this was actually Mori, or Yosano’s secret long lost twin brother. But no, it was definitely him, and Ango was closing in, and he would never live down the humiliation, and the undercover operation would be ruined. He steeled himself, and took a slightly less humiliating leap of desperation.

“Yes! I would love to dance!” Gripping one of Fyodor’s gloved hands tightly, he all but dragged him onto the dance floor, just as a waltz started. Fyodor seemed to catch on quickly, and Atsushi blushed as he felt his hand gripping his waist, the other one still clasped in his own. The waltz started, and Fyodor whirled him around, across the floor and away from Ango.

Fyodor chuckled lowly, even as they moved across the floor with the other dancers. “Im flattered weretiger.” A tap on Atsushi’s waist urged him into a turn. “To think you wanted to dance with little old me.” Atsushi flushed. “I was trying to escape certain humiliation and defeat.” Fyodor lets out a small laugh, as the music crescendos slightly. “But really, what are you doing here, looking like…that.” He pauses slightly, and the last word is laced with something Atsushi can't really decipher. He hopes the taller man isn't laughing at him. “I'm looking for the host, John Remy.” Another tap, another spin. He's glad Yosano taught him the basics before this mission. “Oh my.” Fyodor deftly avoids another couple, pulling him close for a second too long before they spin away. “Is he your type?” Atsushi coughs. “No! He's suspected of murder.”

“I see. Well, unfortunately he's not here today, I asked around.” Atsushi sighs. “Well, all this makeup and hair and dress for nothing then, Yosano is going to be disappointed.” Another tap, another spin, another graceful fall into Fyodor’s arms. “I wouldn't say it's for nothing.” Atsushi hates how attractive he finds this man, truly. “You have gained more than a few admirers.”

Atsushi has to laugh a little. “What? They only want to dance because there aren't that many women here in the first place.” The curls in Atsushi’s hair tickle his cheeks as he spins once again, as Fyodor pulls him close for the next part of the dance. Fyodor is taller than him, but only by a little, so as the song slows and Fyodor pulls him close, all Atsushi can see is the man in front of him.

Their noses are inches apart, their chests so close, one hand linked, the other still a hot brand on his waist, lulling him into a hazy state. Fyodor’s voice has gotten softer, and if Atsushi didn't know better he would almost call it sultry. A smirk still curves his mouth as he speaks. “Look around you Weretiger. They're all jealous. Jealous that you chose to dance with me, and not them. Jealous that I can touch you like this, have you this close, while they can only dream.” They get closer, and Atsushi cant breath, he can feel his heart beating through his chest. “You do look very pretty, although I prefer you in your normal state.” It almost sounds like Fyodor is complimenting him. His shock must show on his face, because Fyodor lets out a pleased little laugh. “I'll give you some free information, Weretiger.” Fyodor’s voice is a pur, and Atsushi is losing his mind. “Your target is currently stalking a young lady undercover policeman. They’ll have him in custody soon.” Relief floods Atsushi’s mind, temporarily distracting him from the fact that Fyodor is literally almost on top of him, so close they could kiss in the middle of this ballroom(and truthfully, he kinda hopes it would happen). And maybe he said that out loud, because as the song crescendos, Fyodor dips him, and presses the slightest little kiss to his cherry stained lips. And with that, the song ends and he turns to leave.

Atsushi’s hand moves of its own accord, catching the tail of Fyodor’s white coat and pulling the man to a stop. He feels a bit like he’s been caught in a trap, especially when Fyodor turns, his lips, stained with Atsushi’s gloss, curved into a smirk. But truthfully, as Fyodor leads him off the dance floor he can't bring himself to mind.

☠☠☠

It's cramped in the closet they’ve found themselves in, a little stuffy and full of coats, but as Fyodor’s mouth sucks little hickeys into his neck, his body pressing Atsushi against the wall he can't really bring himself to mind. The closet is a little off the main hall, down a small side passage and, in this den of rich people, virtually impossible to find. Atsushi thinks it's a coat closet, but he doesn't really have the brain power to think at all right now, not with a mouth on his neck and a hot dick pressed against his butt.

He’s pressed against the wall, fur ruff discarded somewhere on the floor, still clothed in the dress. Fyodor’s mouth is ruining him, leaving little hickeys all over his neck and shoulders, probably too many but Atsushi can't bring himself to care.

The demon behind him chuckles, as Atsushi grinds back desperately. “My, aren't you an impatient little one.” His voice is teasing, his accent is slightly thicker, the only sign of his slipping composure . Atsushi grumbles, his voice slightly too breathy to be convincing. “We need to hurry before someone discovers us.”

Fyodor's mouth leaves his neck, and Atsushi feels hands pulling his dress up, hitching it over his butt, and cold hands at the hem of his underwear, pulling them down. He's not even fully undressed, but the whole idea just feels so dirty, that Atsushi shivers. Then, a cold hand wraps around his dick.

Atsushi moans far too loud and Fyodor’s other hand comes around, sticking two fingers unceremoniously in his mouth to shut him up.

“Quiet little kitty, we wouldn't want to be discovered.” Atsushi does his best, sucking on the fingers in his mouth to keep quiet, but at some point he just gives up, and the fingers leave his mouth and prod at his lower hole. Fyodor’s mouth nips at his ear, voice throaty. “Have you ever been with a man, kitten.” Atsushi shakes his head, biting his lips to keep the whimpers in as a finger penetrates him, wiggling around a little, but stilling for Atsushi to adjust. “I see.” Fyodor chuckles, all rough and low. “I'm honored to be your first. Man, that is.”

It feels strange, but not uncomfortable to have a finger penetrating him and Atsushi finds his hips canting back a bit, urging the man behind him to move. The only sounds that penetrate the thick air in the coat closet or painted breaths and the occasional small grunt, as Fyodor begins to move his finger, setting a slow, deep pace. Atsushi lets his head fall back, his eyes falling closed. He would never have expected the evening to end like this, pressed up against the wall by a known enemy, still dressed as a girl, and having his insides pried open by one, no two(Atsushi lets a little moan escape his lips, still red with lip gloss as Fyodor adds another finger.)long fingers. He doubts even Ranpo could have predicted this, god he hopes Ranpo never finds out what’s happening, that would be mortifying.

Fyodor bends the fingers lodged inside of him, and presses against the side of his walls, trying to find something. Atsushi turns his head, about to ask what he's doing when Fyodor’s fingers press against something that makes his brain blank, and little stars float across his vision. He can't help the loud moan that escapes his lips, even as Fyodor levels a teasing smirk his way. “Careful little kitten, don't let anyone hear you.” He's mocking him, and Atsushi doesn't even care.

He does start to care when Fyodor removes his fingers. Atsushi suddenly feels all empty and cold, and he turns again, leveling Fyodor with an(admittedly pathetic) glare. “Why’d you stop?” The clink of a belt and the rustle of fabric greet his ears as Fyodor chuckles.

“Stop? My, we are just getting started.” And then something big and hot is pressing at his entrance. “Ready, kitten?” Faintly, Atsushi feels the slightest prick of apprehension, but it's far overwhelmed by the hot need in his gut, and his throbbing dick. So, Atsushi nods as best he can, canting his hips back against Fyodor’s cock.

The sting is slight, but mostly Atsushi simply feels full as he's penetrated, his poor neglected dick throbbing heavily. His back arches and Atsushi moans against the wall as Fyodor bottoms out, not even giving him a second to adjust. The pace he sets is brutal and oh, so good, and Atsushi starts to seriously wonder if he has a bit of a masochistic streak or something, as Fyodor does his best to bruise his insides. His thrusts are long and deep, he pulls almost all the way before slamming back in, one of his hands caging Atsushi against the wall, little grunts escaping his mouth. Atsushi knows he's moaning up a storm, but he can't really bring himself to care, even if someone may discover them. It's obvious that's the last thing on Fyodor’s mind as well.

“Feel good?” Fyodor is practically puring in his ear, his voice full of pride at the state he’s reduced Atsushi too, and honestly, it's pretty sexy. He nods his accent, his cheek scraping against the wall.

“And you sound so good, so pretty.” Fyodor continues, his voice throaty. Atsushi keens at the praise.“Such a pretty, obedient kitten. It's a wonder Dazai has not done you like this.”

“Dazai doesn't like men.” Atsushi’s voice is embarrassing, his sentences interrupted by moans. Fyodor seems to find his sentence slightly funny. But a simple, “is that so?” is his only reply. Another deep stroke, and a husky moan by his ear. “Well, he's certainly missing out.”

One of Fyodor's hands is still on the wall by his head, but the other makes its way up, carefully pressing Atsushi against the wall, curled around his neck. Atsushi’s moans as his airway is slightly cut off. He can still breathe the slightest bit, but it takes deep heaves, in between the moans of pleasure. Atsushi wonders if he’s crazy, because he feels his dick twitch, and the heat in his gut doubles. Fyodor chuckles as his moans double. “How dirty, you like being choked, little kitten?”

It's an entirely rhetorical question, but Atsushi doesnt think he could answer anyway. Fyodor doesn't seem to mind. Atsushi can feel himself nearing his peak, he's most certainly dripping precome all over the floor, and his heart pounds insistently in his chest, his moans more and more frequent.

He can tell Fyodor is as well, by the way his grunts and small groans become full blown moans. As his head drops into Atsushi’s shoulder, his hand from its position on Atsushi's neck wraps around his waist, pulling the men together until there's no space between their bodies. Is strangely intimate, and he's sure if Fyodor weren't on the cusp of an orgasm, the man would never do anything like this, but Atsushi feels almost honored none the less. He loves it, the feeling of love that comes with this position, and as his mind blanks out for a moment as he cums, he knows he screams Fyodor’s name, much too loudly.

Fyodor shivers behind him, and a hot feeling fills Atsushi’s ass.

The redressing act is subdued, Fyodor helps Atsushi clean himself up, tidying his fake hair and dress and placing the ruff back around Atsushi’s shoulders. Unfortunately, they can't do anything about the hickeys, and they remain, glaring proof about what had happened that evening.(although Fyodor looks suspiciously pleased by the fact). Atsushi leaves the closet first, and makes his escape from the party altogether. It's not too bad, although he does get a few stares as he excites the lobby, and calls a taxi. The taxi driver is thankfully silent, probably used to this kind of thing.

☠☠☠

Its now about eleven, and as Atsushi opens the door to the Ada, he's oddly touched by the fact that they stayed up for him. The younger ones have gone to bed, and Tanzaki and Naomi are absent, but the rest of them are here, sprawled across various chairs across the room. They look up when he enters.

Kunikida speaks first, still typing on his computer. “So Atsushi, how did it go? Were you able to apprehend him?”

“Apparently, the police had an undercover mission going, so I wasn't needed after all.” Atsushi says, sinking into a chair with a sigh, dropping the small purse Yosano had forced him to carry onto the table, and discarding the ruff beside it. “So it was a lot of wasted effort.”

Kunikida hums, but no one else responds. Atsushi frowns. “What?” Yosano is snickering, seated somewhere behind him. Kunikida is still typing, but everyone elses eyes are glued to him.

“What’s going on?” Eventually Kunikida, tired of the silence, glanced up. Atsushi watches in confusion as the man jumps to his feet, trips over his own chair and falls with a clatter to the floor, his face bright red. Ranpo giggles. “Well, I wouldn't say it was a totally wasted effort.” He motions at his neck and then it hits Atsushi, he swears his face is the shade of a tomato.

Ranpo hops off the desk, gathering all his snacks in a large bag and making his way towards the door. “Oh yeah.” He says, as he turns. “He left you his number, Atsushi. If he was that good maybe you should add it.” Yosano is choking on her laughter, but no one else seems to think it's that funny. Kunikida is still blushing as he asks the loaded question. “Who is ‘he’, Ranpo?”

Atsushi prays that Ranpo will just shut up, but of course, he doesn't. “Fyodor, you know, the strange Russian guy.” He sends them a confused look. “Wasn't it obvious?” He slams the door on the chaos that erupts behind him.

...

End Notes: Ango totally didn't recognize him, he just wanted to get a dance from the pretty lady in the corner, and she ran away from him. He definitely cried about it over a drink later. Also, ‘kitten’ is cringy, except when its literal

Taglist: @mulit05ho3st4n

[leffee]

Day 1: Strawberries

I'm doing it, yeah. We'll see if I'll be doing all prompts but I sure am doing this one

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Red, juicy, and scrumptious, in other words a perfect job well done meal. As such, Vinnie reached for more. However, apparently his eating was sloppy, because as Minka appeared back in the room entry with her hands behind her back, her wide smile fell a bit.

“Jeez, it's a mess in here! You're a mess too!” She pointed wildly, mostly at Vinnie's face, but the red substance was in even more places on her friend.

“I know, I know… but hey, you're not spotless either,” Vinnie observed continuing his meal after a gooey sound could be heard. Minka was red in quite a few places too, though he had to admit that her face was clean. For now at least, he had a feeling it would change soon.

“Nothing new,” She sang sung. “We'll clean it later.”

“Yeah,” Vinnie mumbled as he swallowed. “So, whatcha got there?” He leaned to the side putting more of his weight on his hands while stretching his neck.

“A surprise.” Minka entered the room while still meticulously hiding whatever she was holding behind her back and sat down before finally revealing the items. “Tada!”

“Strawberries?” Vinnie raised his brow. “Not bad, but I already have my food.” 

“No, silly, look!” Minka took one of the little red fruits and dipped it in the gash before them. After circling it a few times she carefully pulled it out, the strawberry now fully coated in blood. 

“Ohhh, so it's like dipping!” Vinnie beamed. “And you're saying it's better than just blood?”

“Eeexactly.” Minka threw the strawberry in the air, it skilfully landing in her mouth no more than a second later. “It's really good, you should try it,” She encouraged.

“Don't mind if I do.” Vinnie reached for the fruit and repeated his friend's actions with it. “Dang it’” He cursed once it landed on the floor instead of in his mouth.

“Careful with that, don't waste my previous paint.”

“Yeeeah, I know, no more throwing,” He promised before putting the strawberry in his mouth manually and biting on it.

“So, how is it?” Minka asked expectantly, leaning a bit towards him.

“Hmm.” Vinnie carefully measured each bite and let his palate decide. The taste sure was new, but the combination of the metallic and sweet was surprisingly… good! “I like it.” Minka nodded approvingly as they both continued. 

Reach, grab, dip, bite, chew, they went until the plate was empty.

“Satisfied?” Minka asked after a moment filled with contented sighs.

“Yup. You can do your thing now.”

“Awesome.” Minka stood up and bent down, putting her hands inside the wounds. They came out red after a while and she quickly skipped towards the canvas, the blood soon landing on the white material. “This will be my best painting yet!” 

Vinnie nodded energetically at her declaration; he was sure if would be. 

He got his food, Minka got her paint, everything was good in the world.

Vinnie stole a glance at Shahrukh.

Well, alright, Bollywood might have lost one of its more popular actors and some fans might be left disappointed. 

If only he was better to their friends, if only he was nicer to Sunil.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alternative title: Vinnie and Minka have no chill 😭

I'm so sorry to all Shahkruk's fan, I am one of them, don't worry :]

Here is your warning that if I'm in the mood again those prompts might potentially have stuff like: gore, blood, killing etc etc, you know what I mean.

My goofy ahh looking up if it's whatcha or what'cha

[riveramorylunar]

The pit’s fire was all the warmth Y/N needed that night. It was bright enough to scare the darkness away and what could bother to hide in it.

Its fire that it held in stone and dying wood, would bring life to her face. The defined features feeling the graze of its heat as it speckled its spotlight on her and her crew of four.

It was just the small group of friends that invited the girl to go camping with them.

A particular blonde would be the reason for that though. “So, Y/N, we normally don’t see you a lot lately. It’s like you’ve become a hermit.”

Steve Rogers would say with a small awkward smile as he sat next to you in his blue and red camping chair that would squeak every so often when he moved. “Oh-, it’s just because of homework and other school stuff you know? It’s been keeping me busy and stuck up in my room.”

Y/N replied to her classmate and friend while waving a small hand gesture as she talked.

“And, um- well you know finals too! Things need to be turned in and graded before the due date because you know… um- graduation.”

She said partially lying. She actually was trying to get things turned in so her grades looked as nice as a straight line of hammered nails in a block of wood. But to be more truthful, she was mostly binge watching horror movies all over again. Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street, all the Halloween movies, Trick or Treat, all the old classics!

“Huh, you could have just done a study group with us.”

He would simply say while gesturing to Bucky, Natasha and Wanda who were just having a conversation until his words interrupted them causing the spotlight to be on the girl who was just trying to enjoy the night without disturbance.

“Well—“

Y/N dragged the “L” in her one worded speech as she scratched the back of her neck while avoiding the glances.

“Steve, leave her alone. She probably wanted privacy from your chattering mouth.”

Bucky interrupted with a small smirk as his comment made Steve’s ears as red as an elf’s.

“Do I really chatter that much?”

Steve asked while leaning back in his seat causing another squeak to be heard. That thing was too old, like him, himself but in the mind. “Yes.” Was the simple answer that spewed out of everyone’s mouth. “Roger, not to be rude but sometimes when we’re studying you’ll mumble for hours on how we should be on task and how important this project is without even starting it.”

Natasha spoke while crossing her legs to eat a Marshmallow that was almost burnt to the crisp, but in her words. “It was better that way, crisp outside and gooey inside is the way to go.” Her words repeated in Y/N’s head for a second from earlier.

As her mind was having a small relapse. Her closed off brain would return once it heard bloody murder but it was just Wanda when she looked up quickly. Natasha had flung a small leaf that resembled a dead bug at her. The laughter in the air was intoxicating and she would soon suck it all in too causing a small laugh to escape her lips that played a small smile at Wanda. She was her horror buddy and from her looks she gave Y/N earlier would say she probably already knew what she was doing the entire time up in her room which is honestly understandable because a small horror break isn’t a bad thing. She just wished Y/N invited her along, which will cause a long conversation in the car once the group starts to head back tomorrow in the morning. “Okay- okay, I’m sorry Nat!”

Wanda said with laughter being her oxygen now.

“Do not steal my marshmallow again!”

Natasha said with a pout playing on her face that made it more funny. “It’s not my fault you have to make such good marshmallows-“

Which was a lie because Y/N clearly remembered how Wanda had a small fight with Natasha on what was the proper way to cook with marshmallows for a food drive when they were making small sweet desserts. While the argument began, Y/N would hear something behind her... It was only the wind she thought, but the heavy breathing didn’t sound like the screeching wind. Gloved hands would grab at her shoulders which caused her to scream from her throat like a rooster at day. The laughter for Wanda soon became Y/N’s as Steve let go of her shoulders and took off the bloody hockey mask.

“And I thought you weren’t afraid of scary things-“

Steve’s chuckle caught in every word as he sat back down causing another damn squeak. “Ya, I’m not when it’s in movies, jackass.”

She said while punching his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you brought that damn mask.”

Bucky said while glancing back at him. “It was for the scare but you know how I like to get when I tell stories. Especially scary ones.”

Steve said while scraping his fingertips against the rough markings of the “old mask” he probably bought from the dollar store. Bucky never liked scary things for a guy like him which was completely fine. It was just shocking kinda from how he dressed and acted but there’s a surprise to everyone. “Well, since you brought it. Go on and tell the tale of the poor girl who died here.”

Wanda said while sitting up to have her full attention on Steve as he was the best to tell these types of things. “Well perfect timing, I need to go take a piss so I’m out of here.”

Bucky announced while standing up, the fire making it easier to see his fake arm. “Gross, you don’t have to announce it every single time whenever you need to take a piss Bucky.”

Nat said with a cringe expression that strained over her pale face. “Well I’m sorry, I’ll go use the “powder” room.”

He mocked as there was no bathroom unless you wanted to walk far to the community one, which no one wanted to do at this time, this dark.

Y/N rolled her eyes at them before nudging Steve to continue. “Go on, I want to hear this one.”

She said while sitting up a little straighter.

“Well, we all know the well known fact that this place used to be an old boot camp, that’s why you can find so many old cabins and obstacle courses.

It’s said a girl was dropped off here by her father on the first day of summer. Her name was Maria and was said to be the only girl there causing her to be toyed with by the boys. She shocked most of them on what she could do and how much strength she already had, but that didn’t stop some from picking on her.”

He explained while he lifted the mask up to rest against his chin. “They would push her in mud, pick fights with her, frame her about things that she didn’t do. All the high school bully shit one could go through. They tried to make it hell for Maria at the point she would leave, but she couldn’t.”

Steve said while gesturing with his broad hands that waved in the cool air around them. “It was seven weeks stuck at the boot camp when they were practicing with real grenades for the training course that week. Grant, one of the kids at the boot camp, would invite her towards the lake with a small group of friends he had. Of course she wouldn’t oblige until he mocked her, calling her a coward. With a sharp glare she would follow him to prove what he said was wrong. When they made it they managed to gather extra grenades somehow. They would be throwing them in the big lake to create giant explosions of water that were too far for any superior officer to hear or notice. Grant would give Maria a grenade and invited her to throw one. She didn’t like the waste in supplies and she could tell it was a waste of fish too as she saw the corpses of scales and fish eyes in the gloomy water. Without her knowledge, Grant gave her one without the pin. As she held it she was about to give it back to him before all of sudden the boy pushed her in the lake. The bomb exploded as she hit the water!”

He would say loudly as he stood up for a dramatic effect. As if on queue, a loud snap in the trees would alert the three. “That was probably Bucky coming back, or just an animal.”

Wanda would say with a small chuckle as she combed her hand through her long hair. They would go back to the haunting tale, but Y/N’s eyes lingered in the darkness, hoping something would reveal itself but nothing did. Probably a bird… she thought.

“Anyway- heh Um.. she was said to have died from drowning in the water, but it’s said a lightning strike is what brought her back to life as it flowed through the lake’s body.

Pulling herself out of the lake she would have lost part of her hand, face, she was atrocious to look at! Walking back with more strength than a bear she would break through the cabin doors and revenge herself by killing Grant and his friends…

It’s said she covers her face with a hockey mask that Grant had as a trophy, but others say it’s a reminder of that night.

It’s said if you visit here, you have a chance to find her roaming the old camp grounds, waiting for her father to return and to chase anyone who stays…”

Steve said while placing the mask on his face.

“Okay this story is kinda bulshit- Where did the lighting strike come from all of sudden? how did it bring her back to life?”

Natasha spoke as she leaned back into her red camping chair.

“I don’t know, it was just a part of the story when I was told it.”

Steve explained while Y/N rolled her eyes. “Clearly you never read Frankenstein.”

She said, making Wanda snicker a little.

As they all spoke they would hear footsteps following along branches and leaves that covered the pathway.

“Finally Bucky, how long does it-“

Wanda’s words were interrupted by a plastic arm being thrown in the middle of the group, landing in the fire. If you looked closely enough they could see the specks of red dripping from its melting surface. “Holy fucking shit- Bucky are you insane?!”

Nat would spew words out fast as she stood up looking behind her. She wasn’t met with Bucky’s eyes, different blue irises would stare back- but she wouldn’t know that for now until the figure grew closer. As their footsteps grew louder, their stances would be more frozen in place. A dark mask, weathered and old would show itself in the tinted lighting of orange from the fire. “Ohh- good prank guys! Come on Steve tell Bucky to quit it.”

Nat spoke with some sarcasm as Wanda stepped back a little. “N-Nat, that’s not Bucky!”

Steve yelled but his warning was too late. A hammer would smash against her body’s ribcage. The feeling of her bones crunching and shattering in her would let a scream out through her throat and coughs that burned without a breath of air in between.

Natasha’s body fell in front of them against the dirt ground. One hit wasn’t enough as the steel block beated the body until the squirms and gasping was over like a bug being squished.

As the killer of Natasha was standing back to their full height, Steve would force himself on them. Pushing them to the ground as his hand reached for the hammer. “Run, …Run!”

His words loud and heavy as Y/N and Wanda ran into the forest without a thought on her mind as it was already filled and intoxicated with confusion and fear that crawled among their skin. Y/N could hear the blonde’s screams from afar as the beating of steel and flesh meat would echo to ears that were blocked by palms to hide away from the horrific noise. As they ran Wanda’s eyes would widen and reflect the hanging Bucky against tree branches. The murder scenes from horror movies didn’t prepare her eyes to see the unrecognizable body of her friend.

Y/N would pull the frozen Wanda along by her wrist until the heavy breathing of a woman would come closer. Calloused hands gripping the wrist of the brunette would force a whimper out of her lips as they pulled her closer to them harshly. If it wasn’t for the killer’s strength, Wanda would have had a chance at running away if it hadn’t for the harsh pull of her arm that yanked the humérus from its socket. The yank would force her face into the bloody hammer.

The sprinkle of blood sprayed against Y/N’s face lightly caused a sickness to dawn on her and a feeling that made her mouth gape open but nothing would come out but noises of squeaks and words that couldn’t escape her vocals completely. Y/N’s hands covering her face as if it was to hide and be safe, to not see the dull eyes that were hooded through the creases of a mask she could barely see from the darkness. Y/N could hear the breathing, but couldn't feel the heat of a body that would normally radiate off of someone. But it was only a guess and a need to be safe that she swung her fists towards the tall being. Eyes still closed she would hear a small grunt and groan before the sound of an object hit the dirt ground that crackled dying leaves.

E/C eyes would meet the face that flourished at moonlight. Only a small examination would tell her the anger that she felt around this woman she saw. Even if a third of her face was blown off and the rest scarred wouldn’t stop her from seeing the clenched jaw and the creased brow that hung above the eye. It came to realization that this… was Maria from the boot camp tale.

As it finally strikes Y/N’s head she would be pushed against a tree’s bark that pierced her back through thin fabric.

“I’m going to murder you.”

The heavy breath that followed along with words that rasped out of cut lips and clenched teeth. The heaving body in front of her was like an animal’s.

The shock of this reveal was too overwhelming for the body as Y/N couldn’t utter a word out, and if she tried it would only be a cry that would be barely auditable. Maria would drop her hammer to the ground and grab the woman by her neck to rise from the soil and beat her back against the tree harshly one more time. As bony hands choke Y/N out of oxygen that her lungs died to inhale, so would her vision as it became a blur of tears and how light headed she became. Y/N’s hands would give a fighting chance and scratch at the muscled arms and hands but her nails digging into spoiled skin wouldn’t harm or disturb this psychopath.

But she wasn’t strong enough, and the loss of air didn’t help much either. Her hands giving out and only settling against the wrists of Maria.

Sight becoming vivid, would make the killer’s face a blur, only recognizing those glacier eyes before it became a blank canvas.

When Maria noticed the squirming stopped she would have dropped her body on the crud, grassy ground. Leaving a light thump to be heard.

“Jesus…”

Maria muttered through her lips as she held Y/N’s figure close to her body beneath the blankets on the couch. Her eyes would squint at the scenes being performed before her. She wasn’t really scared but rather disturbed by how violent someone could create a character. “What, scared you?”

Y/N asked with a cocky grin as she leaned her head up to see her girlfriend. “No- not at all- just surprised. It’s not like those other movies we watched. It’s more graphic.”

“Ya.That's why this one is a yes and no for me.

Hey- you know what it’s almost Halloweennn, you could dress up as her!”

Y/N spoke with a smile towards Maria only causing her to chuckle and shake her head. “Hmph, no way in hell.”

“Come on.. please?”

Y/N only needed to ask once with her pleading eyes. It made Maria chuckle and sigh. “Fine- fine, you win Princess.”

Her response made her girlfriend’s eyes become stars as she started to fan over the idea of Maria dressing up as a horror character. “Yesss, it would be perfect! You look so much like her too.”

Y/N would explain excitedly as Maria placed an arm over her shoulder on the couch. Her glacier eyes would slowly glance back at the hammer that was kicked under the small night table’s wooden figure that displayed itself near the front door.

“Ya… I would.”

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!

This was absolutely amazing 😩🤌 I swear I couldn't stop smiling and giggling. Absolutely insane!!! I love it so much thank you thank you thank you for sharing this awesome piece of work 🥹🙏

Serial Killer Maria Hill might be my new favorite Maria Hill variant thanks to you buddy!!

[bored-frog]

Final Outcome

I knew, I was fully aware that you were not genuine, that I was going to be left alone, crying as I crawl on the floor, moaning through every ache, while sticky-gooey-embarrassing-snotty tears coat my face, feeling another soul crushing emptiness from someone new; Being right from the start.

Logically, I understand that it never would have worked for us, from the very beginning you were already hurting me, making me feel awful and appreciated at the same time, such a dirty trick; My emotions refused to acknowledge this helpful honesty.

You're so different from every other person I've ever clutched onto to an interest for, you "actually" held onto your very own interest in me, in us, in the beautiful bud I wanted nothing more than to blossom, blooming bright on a decaying earth; Another fantasy I let take over.

It's so ironic that I tossed out one boob, only to meet another; Boobie and Boober.

You saw the crack in my armor, one of many I try to hide, you snuck in, sinking your sharp fangs onto a naked sheep, you never had to do that to her, she would have gifted you with everything; Rubbing your dirty paws on the doormat that is my heart.

Every word I wrote for you was true, I made them each because I wanted to show you how wonderfully confused you made me, how I enjoyed the way you deliciously twisted up my insides from the deep dark depths of my gushing organs; Falling too hard, fully ready to plummet into a filthy-messy-meaty pancake.

I painted you the picture I envisioned every night when we talked, a piece so personal from the love that gets taken advantage of, you saw my canvas of truth and didn't bat an eye as you lit it on fire, leaving me to watch as you tied me up to a tree and vanished; A fool who was too vulnerable too soon.

In our final moments, I did anything and everything I could to not end it, but you...you did not, you did not try for me, I wanted to talk it all through because you were hurting me and I didn't understand why, you looked at me with pure disgust as I told you through cracked tears how painful it feels, the way you were mentally fucking me up.

Why?

Why would you do this to me?

Why would you pretend to give a damn about someone who is already broken?

Actions truly are louder than words, my actions screamed from collapsing lungs, it could be heard all throughout my encased home of love, shaking rooftops, but yours? I laugh like a maniac at what you decided to do, the choice you made to protect yourself and destroy the enchanting-caring-lovely gifts I had to offer.

Yours told me the very thing I did not want to believe, the inner voice inside did her best to warn me, I should have listened, but instead I welcomed in harshly-cold-bitter vile spat at from an angry man who hides himself well; A lesson I'll always repeat...it seems.

Through a burning-blurry-heaving haze, shakey hands take hold of the cruel tether that linked us, painfully slow, I begrudgingly begin to shred each fiber, completely tearing myself of the overwhelming string I used to gaze upon fondly; Separation...once again.

I'll miss you, even though you do not reciprocate the mushy feeling, I'll look at the time and think of everything we shared, the beautiful flower that could have grown, but I'll accept that this was how we were meant to end, that you were no good for me, and I carried nothing you would have really wanted, I was just a tempting craving you swirled around your sharp tongue; Mourning through acceptance, maturity.

Goodnight, Boober.

- Autumn(Me)

[superblysubpar]

I was super super duper not prepared to cry as much as I am right now. I knew it'd be an emotional and fantastic chapter, but the love you poured into this series and this conclusion leighanne...wow. I could absolutely feel their love through the words, their fear to let go and give each other everything but that genuine excitement when that connection wants to be reciprocated. This series was so so so beautiful and you should be so incredibly proud. Thank you for sharing then with us this summer 💛

I kept forgetting to pull out quotes for this one, I was just so wrapped up in the story, but it was filled with just the sweetest most genuine heartfelt sticky gooey delicious moments and I'd copy and paste the whole chapter if I could 💛

His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.

"You want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did"

He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle.

He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.

SOFTEST GOOIEST CUTEST FUCKING MOMENT I'VE EVER READ. The intimacy?! The comfort level they have with each other that you've built all summer long for us?!

A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.

“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”

When I tell you I squirmed in my seat reading this 😩

Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.

“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

I AM BRIGHT RED.

“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.

“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.

“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”

“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away...

“I love you, tough girl.”

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap ten/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs -

Baby, I’m Yours

summary: A sleepless night brings you back to where it all began.

wc: 8k

warnings: 18+ for the softest of smut.

author’s note: I know we still have the epilogue but I can’t believe we’re actually here at the end of their story. Thank you to all of you that spent your summer reading about Steve and his Tough Girl, this has been such a journey for me as a writer with a lot of challenges but I’m so thankful I did it. Truly writing about these two and talking about it with you guys was the highlight of my summer. From the bottom of my heart, thank you 🧡

🌇 <- chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Beginning of August

Steve had been gone for a week and a half and it felt more like a lifetime to you, but it wasn’t for the lack of communication. If Steve wasn’t calling you he was texting you, sending you pictures of his lunch no matter how lame you told him it was. By day three you were sending him a picture of your own with a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes. His enthusiastic response of ‘That looks good baby!!’  had made you squirm in your seat with hot cheeks huffing the word “pathetic” to yourself, but that didn’t stop you from doing it again the next day. 

It was FaceTime calls of Peach telling Steve to turn the camera around, always too busy looking at you and telling you how pretty you are to notice his was pointed towards a wall. Or the one time it was pointed at Eddie who sat in front of him making a suggestive ‘cumming’ face to tease him, the camera flipped immediately when he heard you giggle. Steve scolded his cackling friend with an ‘honestly, I hate you’ before taking you to another room, apologizing profusely with blush visible on his cheeks.

It was the small bits of time in between text messages and phone calls that made it drag. The quiet evenings without Bandit’s excited bark from the front yard, the low simmer that’s always in your gut from the possibility of running into him any time you come and go, is gone with the man and his dog. It’s just enough time for seeds of doubt to creep in. The newness, the anxiety of it all.

The bright red numbers on the clock above your stove read 2:13am - three days until Steve gets home and tonight you can’t sleep. Quietly thanking whatever gods there are for your day off tomorrow, well - today. 

Your apartment smells like Clorox, lavender, and lemon. The wood floors sparkling just like your kitchen countertops. Cleaning everything you could touch has kept you busy, but it doesn’t make you any more tired than when you’d started. Your intrusive thoughts and daydreams are going a mile a minute:you didn’t get your usual good night call from him. The rational side of you knows that one missed phone call doesn’t mean anything, but the irrational side decided you don’t  need to rest.

The full trash bag next to your front door taunts you, just like the promise you made Steve about taking it out late at night months ago. The fact that it’s the last thing left to do makes it that much harder to walk away from. Gnawing at the side of your cheek you decide not to, he’s not even home to catch you.

The moon’s blue glow illuminates your path while the skyline of the city sparkles below it. The tall buildings shimmer in a way that takes attention from the stars in the cloudless night sky. You can feel how the humidity hangs less thick in the air the more August rolls in. The thin material of your tank top does nothing against the light breeze that makes the bottom of your sleep shorts tickle the tops of your thighs. There’s a chill that didn’t exist before and it makes goosebumps dot across your skin.

Your slides scrape along the gravel from your refusal to fully pick your feet up, and it fights with the sounds of the late Friday night in the distance. You hum a made up tune as the streetlight buzzes above, lifting the lid you jump when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. 

“I thought I told you not to take your trash out in the middle of the night, especially alone, tough girl.” Steve’s voice erupts everything that’s laid dormant inside of you for the past week. Butterflies start to flutter until they’re fighting against your rib cage to get out and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling before you’ve even turned around.

“Well,” You sigh, dropping your bag in the trash can, “the guy I was supposed to call if I needed anything ditched me for his out of state boyfriend.” Shrugging when you finally let yourself look at him, the view rivals the one that shines bright behind him.

His hair is messy in a way that isn’t purposeful this time, but he looks just as handsome as any other day. The stubble on his jaw is thicker, but not quite like the night he waited at your doorstep, and god, do you want to feel it against your skin. His big arms sit crossed over a broad chest that’s only covered in a gray tank top. The thick patch of hair always half way on display threatens to touch the base of his neck, the bottom of his silver chain disappearing inside of it. 

His freckles are darker now, easier to find from all the sun he got while he was gone and you’re jealous of the hands that got to rub sunscreen on them, even if they were his own. The black basketball shorts on his legs stop in the middle of his thighs, it makes you bite at your lip.The greens and golds in his eyes light a match under your skin with the way he stares at you  — like he couldn’t possibly look away even if he tried.

“My out of state boyfriend huh?” He grins, tightening his hold on his own bag before his Nike slide covered feet crunch against the gravel towards you. His eyes catch the dainty silver still hanging around your neck, the stone shining in the moonlight, and it makes his heart swell. Tossing his trash in after yours, he meets your gaze down the slope of his nose, arching a brow. “What does that make you then?”

He smells like bergamot and cedar, a lingering hint of the cigar he probably smoked in New York still clinging to his hair. The heat coming off his body makes your fingertips buzz, twitching with the need to reach out and just touch him. 

“I dunno, what does that make me, Steve?” It comes out shy, a little above a whisper, a question just for him.

He hums, a low sound that vibrates from deep in his chest while his fingers come up to toy with the stone that dangles just above the dip of your breasts. The tips of them tickling rough against your soft skin. 

“What do you want?” His confident demeanor falters when he asks just as quiet, all the miles and days without seeing each other are affecting him too. He doesn’t tell you that’s part of the reason he booked an early flight home on your day off. 

“I want you.” You don’t hesitate when you say it, no pauses for even a second to think of what you want to say. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, the muscles under your palm dance from your simple touch. He wonders if you can feel his pulse.

“You already have me.” He almost wants to laugh until he still sees the same shared doubt  in your eyes. “Haven’t I made that obvious?”

He tugs at your necklace as a reminder, a smile breaking across your face because of it and all he wants to do is kiss you now. Especially when he drops the stone to grab your hand, and after taking just a few steps, you reach up to touch it again — a silent, constant reminder of his confession as you walk towards the wooden gates.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” You pout a little, looking up at him when he stops you both at your backyard. 

“I landed a few hours ago,” He chuckles, his hands finding your hips to pull you to his chest, in love with the way you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck like it’s natural, like it’s second nature to want him close. “I was actually going to surprise you in the morning with breakfast after I picked up Bandit from Nance’s.” 

“Oh yeah?” You grin at the thought of Steve showing up at your front door, that messy head of hair shoved into a baseball cap.

He nudges his nose against yours, the spearmint of his toothpaste fanning cool across your cheeks while your fingers curl into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Tilting your chin so your lips just barely touch, you silently beg him to close the gap. 

“Yeah,” He breathes, hazel eyes clocking the way your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks. He almost feels bad for teasing, especially when you give his hair a gentle, coaxing tug. “But someone wanted to risk their lives for the sake of taking out the trash. So, surprise, pretty girl, I’m home.” 

His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.

“Well, good thing you were here to save me.” You giggle against his mouth, and it makes his hands squeeze at your sides a little tighter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The tip of your nose pushes against the rough stubble on his cheek, “Besides, I missed you, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait ‘til the morning.”

“God, honey. You have no idea how much I missed you.” His face crumples a little at the thought, almost like he forgot for a second you were right in front of him, but when you somehow pull yourself closer, he doesn’t waste anymore time.

The wood is rough when your back hits the gate at the same time his lips finally crash into yours. A week of longing comes out with a sigh. The metal hinges and lock clank loudly together while he steals the breath from your lungs. He coaxes your mouth open with a swipe from his impatient tongue, groaning when you grant him access. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, and he promises himself he’ll never go a day without it again — not if he can help it.  

Your hands get greedy in his hair, bigger handfuls, harsher tugs while your body stays flush against his as he keeps you pinned to the door. It’s all tongue and teeth for a minute, both of you losing yourselves in it for longer than you should. It’s not until a car honks, signaling to any bikers around that it’s popping out of the alley, breaking you two apart. 

Chest heaving and lips swollen, all you want is more.

He laughs to himself pressing his forehead against yours with the kind of smile that makes your knees weak. The tip of his nose touches yours; he’s all wild hair and love sick eyes. You don’t want to be without him tonight. Or ever.

“Come sleepover?”

The question comes out before you can stop it, before you can really register what that invitation might mean for both of you. His eyes widen before they search your face for any kind of regret, his tongue wetting his lips when he doesn’t find it. You twist strands of his honey hair between your fingers, nervously waiting for his response. 

“We - we don’t have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” You finally whisper, your nerves getting the best of you. He can’t believe you think he’d actually say no.

“Let me shower and get the airport off of me, and then I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you baby.” He steals another kiss from your smiling lips, letting you take another one for yourself, groaning at the nip of your teeth on his bottom lip before he finally lets you go. 

Opening the gate for you, he grabs your wrist pulling you back for one more, relishing in the giggle it earns him before he whispers that he’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

It feels like your heart is trying to escape through your chest as you try not to check the time on your phone. Strategically placed candles are the only light in your living room and kitchen, while a dimmed bedside lamp in your room gleams a dark orange with your wax melter. It feels like your apartment is glowing, but it does nothing to relax the nerves that course through your veins as you pace the small space of your room trying to shake them before his inevitable arrival.

Knock, knock, knock

They are quieter than his normal ones, but they make you jump just the same. You shake your hands out, taking a deep breath before you pad barefoot to your front door. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that always grows the first time you lay your eyes on him and his lopsided grin.

“Hey baby.” He greets you in the kind of voice that makes the dough of your thighs press.

His damp hair is pushed back, from what looks like a few quick hands in the mirror. A simple white shirt replaces the tank top from before, fitting loosely across his shoulders, and a soft looking pair of gray cotton shorts cover the tops of his thighs this time. He’s wearing a tan pair of moccasin slippers on his feet that you’ve never seen, and for some reason his exposed ankles make the heat rise to your cheeks while the fresh scent of his pine body wash threatens to take over your senses.

“Hi handsome.” It’s dripping in sugar the way you say it, sweet off your tongue just for him as you open the door wider.

He thinks your apartment smells like peaches and the ocean when you close it behind him. It smells just like you and he feels surrounded by it, intoxicated with it, the way he always wants to be. You watch him take in your apartment like he missed it too, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he notices you just cleaned it. He bites back his remark when his eyes meet yours, he can’t bring himself to say it when you’re staring at him from under your lashes with your back pressed to the door all shy like that.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” he extends a big hand out for you to take with soft eyes, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” copying your line from outside, he wiggles his fingers a little with a smile warmer than the glow of the candles that dance shadows across his sharp jaw and cheek bones, “I just wanna lay with you.”

You don’t hesitate to slip your palm into his, your heart racing when you watch his fingers wrap around you with ease. He pulls you into him, colliding in a mix of  forest and the beach. He keeps a hold of your hand, cupping your cheek with his other one. The pad of his thumb traces over the heated skin, paying extra attention to the soft bag under your eye. You needed sleep.

“Just me and you, that’s all I want, okay?” He reassures you in a voice lower than a whisper. His heart swells when you nod with big glassy eyes, your hand coming to rest on the top of his so you can lean deeper into his touch.Steve’s hazel eyes look to yours, he tilts his head a little bit closer in a silent ask for permission, you push up on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He kisses you differently than how he did in the alley, differently than the Fourth of July and the baseball game. He’s gentle, like he’s taking his time with you because he actually has it now, like he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to deepen it even when they move together like this is what they were always meant to be doing, not even when your top lip catches a little dirty with his bottom. He wants to remember this moment, commit it to memory so that he never forgets what this feels like with you. He kisses you like this until the need for oxygen becomes too much and your feet start to hurt from standing in place for too long.

“Let’s go lay down.” You whisper between bated breaths that mingle with his, your chests heave as he gives you the kind of toothy grin that makes the butterflies wake up again, nodding with a squeeze of your hand.

The hum of A/C and the sounds of your breathing are the only things that can be heard in the low light of your room. Steve’s body lays pressed on top of yours, making himself comfortable between your legs. His head rests on your sternum with a cheek against the soft curve of your tummy. His big hands hold tight to your sides, caging you in – it feels like he’s everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The weight of him relaxes you into the feathers of your pillows.

Your fingers keep themselves busy buried deep in the thickness of his hair. Still a little damp at the roots, you massage the part of his scalp you know was resting on the hard cushion of the airplane seat, earning you a deep groan that vibrates between your legs. He feels the way they try to close because of it, the sharp intake of breath that you try to hide.

He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle. 

Steve doesn’t know how he lasted as long as he did this past week without you. 

He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.

“Steve!” You sound annoyed but the smile on your face gives you away when you go to cover your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“What baby?” He smirks against your skin and feels the way it makes you squirm with a subtle roll of your hips, he’s not even sure you noticed that you did it.

“No…”Your voice trails off when he pushes your shirt up a little higher, his lips getting bolder, addicted to the way you heat up for him with every soft kiss, “No raspberries.” You finally manage, making him chuckle. But that doesn’t stop him continuing on his path.

“I promise I’ll be nice, m’sorry” He mumbles an apology against your skin, basking in the goosebumps it earns him.

He sits back on his knees, thumbs hooking into the bottom of your tank. His eyes meet yours from underneath his lashes and he wishes he could take a picture of the way you look right now.

“Is this okay?” He asks just to make sure, and the nod of your head with heavy lids is enough for him to press a wet kiss on your sternum before pulling the rest of the offending fabric off, throwing it somewhere on your floor. 

Steve forgets how to breathe the moment his eyes land on you, soft curves just begging for his touch. He can’t help himself when he runs his palms up your sides making your nipples pebble when the pads of his thumbs meet the bottom swell of your breasts. You wonder if he can feel the wings under your rib cage.

“God - honey,” Steve’s words get lost on his tongue when you stare up at him with eyes blown out like his, it makes him run a hand down his face like he can’t believe you’re real. “I’m lucky to just be lookin’ at you.”

His praise makes a shy smile push up your cheeks, his own teeth shining in a grin because of it.

“I wanna look at you too.” You whine a little, reaching down between your legs to tug at the cotton of his shirt with a pout.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, bending back down to hover over you. His nose nudges against your cheek before his lips brush yours, smirking when you nod a little desperate against his mouth.

The kiss he gives you lingers, lighting a fire inside of you, the kind that burns at your fingertips, consuming you like it’s wild and it makes you realize it’s never going to be enough. You’re never going to get enough of the man who looks at you like you hung the stars in his sky, like you were the sun that broke through the rain clouds that followed him around. 

His fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, and it feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he pulls it over his head, adding it to the already growing pile on the floor. His muscles twitch under your gaze, his own nerves finally catching up to him when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been with someone like this. Pink dusts his cheeks but he doesn’t look away, not when he sees the way your eyes glaze over at the sight. The dark thatch of hair in the middle of his chest looks soft to the touch from his late night shower and it makes your fingers twitch to touch him. 

The silver of his chain gleams like yours in the moonlight that leaks through your curtains and it makes his skin look like it glows. You give in, running your fingertips through the thick happy trail that’s surrounded by another collection of freckles and moles that you feel the need to kiss and you catch the shudder that runs through him because of it.

“You’re so handsome, Steve.” It comes out a little breathless, and it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Thank you, angel.” He tries to hide his bashfulness in a grin and a hand through his hair, bending back down to press a kiss to your collarbone so you don’t see his smile.

He starts a path up your neck, nipping at sensitive skin along the way to your lips, his own butterflies being spurred on by the whimper it earns him. He hovers over you searching your face for any indication to stop but he’s only met with the kind of look in your eyes that almost has him say it.

 ‘I love you’.

He tries to show you by slotting his lips against yours in a hot breath, like a key to its lock. The bed dips on either side of your head when he goes from his palms to his forearms, chest to chest he wonders if you can feel his heart beating just for you tonight.

The feeling of his skin against yours makes every inch of you feel like a livewire, both of you moaning into the kiss like you’ve waited too long for this. Tongues collide messily when he rolls his hips with a purpose. The pointed pressure on your bundle of nerves, has you keening into him. Your hands slide up his chest through the patch of hair you’d been dreaming about for months, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Addicted to the way his hard muscles flex against your soft skin.

Box springs squeak when he lets go of all of his weight, it feels like he’s everywhere and it makes your head spin. Your fingers find their way back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you fight for dominance with his lips, trying to convey everything you’re feeling right now because words just won’t work.

Pushing your hips up to meet his in a slow grind, the thin material of his shorts does nothing to hide just how big he really is and it makes everything turn sloppy, teeth scraping together with silk between your fingers tugging at his roots a little mean. He smiles when he pulls away to catch his breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are as black as the night outside that threatens to give away to the sun in just a few hours, they look at you like he can’t believe you’re real, memorizing every detail of your face like you might disappear if he blinks.

“So pretty.” He murmurs before littering kisses down your body, some sweet and some with a nip of his teeth. 

His eyes meet yours in a silent question of ‘is this okay?’, long fingers curling around the elastic band. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your shy smile. You nod with a little too much excitement making him smirk before pressing a sweet kiss on the top of your hip, running his nose along the soft your tummy doing it again to the other side.

You hold your breath when he pulls them down your thighs, the tips of his fingers gliding down the sides of your legs as he goes, lips tugging up when you squirm a little because of it. A low groan vibrates from his chest when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear, glistening with your arousal in the dim light. You’re so wet and all he’s done is kiss you. 

“Baby, baby, baby.” He mutters awestruck by the sight.

A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.

“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”

His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your leg up enough for his lips to kiss the soft skin right above the round bone, his nose skims up your calf to press another one, relishing in the giggle he gets as he keeps on his path to what he really wants. You squeal when he nips at the inside of your knee and you can feel his smirk against your goosebumps. 

Once his kisses get to your thigh, he settles between your legs with his chest to the mattress. It’s hard to remember your own name when he looks up at you through his lashes like that. He hooks your knee over his broad shoulder, his lips dragging a little dirty across your heated skin. He can taste the watermelon that still lingers from his favorite lotion. You were going to be the death of him.

He meets your eyes when he gets high enough for your thigh and hip to connect. Close enough to smell how sweet you are worked up just for him. 

“Can I taste you?” He skims his nose up the plush inside of your thigh when he asks, his eyelids growing heavy just basking in being close to you like this. You could say no, and this would be enough for him but the way you’re already dripping on your sheets makes him insatiable. “You want that?”

You want that?

He watches how your eyes glaze over at his question, the intensity of his gaze makes you want to hide, he was so handsome looking up at you like this. Too bashful to actually say yes, you nod again.

“Can you say it for me?” He squeezes your hip, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles to soothe your nerves like his own weren’t boiling under the surface of his confident demeanor like a volcano ready to explode. 

What if he wasn’t good at this anymore?

“Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.

“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s started to always miss you when you aren’t around.

He accepts your nod this time, your teeth threatening to make your bottom lip bleed when he settles your other leg over his shoulder too, nothing holding him back from you anymore. He takes all of you in with a greedy eyes, his pink tongue darling out to lick his lips when he sees just how much you want this too.

Nothing can prepare you for the first swipe of his flattened tongue between your slick folds, the tip of it catching your clit with just enough pressure for the grip on your sheets to tighten. The butterflies in your rib cage feel like they make their escape in the gasp you let out, his low hum of approval making your toes curl when he does it again. 

“So fucking sweet baby, god of course you are.” 

He doesn’t waste anymore time testing the waters, his self doubt gone with his self control when your hips roll up asking for more. Steve knows now he’ll never say no to you and he’s not shy with the way he buries his face in your pussy. His tongue laps up everything you give him, like he’s hungry with his nose pressed to your bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make your back arch. 

“Ohmygod - Steve.” The moan you let out makes his cock twitch, your fingers reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer. You were better than his dreams.

Your thighs snap closed around his ears after he stops the greedy strokes of his tongue in the tightness of your entrance for his lips to wrap your clit. He sucks with the kind of force that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. His eyebrows marry together when he closes his eyes like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. One of hands leaves the dough of your thighs for his thick index finger to take his tongue's place, collecting the slick from between your folds before pushing one knuckle in. 

It makes you gasp a little breathy as your hips push up for more, and he gives it to you, pushing two more knuckles in and you already feel so full. Your walls constrict, fluttering around his single digit like it’s a stretch and he wonders how you’re going to be able to take him. His own hips rut into the mattress in search of some kind of relief while he sets a steady pace between his mouth and his wrist that has you clenching like you’re about to unravel. 

“You close baby? Wanna show me how good it feels?” His question comes out sloppy against your mound, all the color in his eyes is gone meeting yours from between your legs blown wide. When he adds a second finger, it slides in with ease making your eyes hit the back of your head, a low moan bubbling past your lips. Your toes curl with his fingers, jaw going slack with his name in your mouth like a prayer and he’s scared you’re going to make him cum in his pants again. 

“Just like that, fuck - right there - Steve, Steve, Steeeeeve!” The fingers that are tangled in his hair tug rough, your thighs clamping down hard around his head while your body tries to squirm away to run from the intensity of it all, the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw when he moves his head from side to side drinking in everything you give him.

His hand on your hip locks you in place while you come undone on his tongue and he swears you taste just like sugar when he buries his face in deeper till you whine, pushing on his forehead to stop, overstimulation winning. Heat floods your cheeks when you see the shine from your slick covering the bottom of his lopsided grin when he finally looks up at you.

“So pretty like this,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your shaking thigh. 

You cover your face with your hands, the intensity of your first orgasm and the intimacy of it all overwhelms you, the tightness in your chest threatens to become unbearable. The three words sitting at the tip of your tongue beg to come out from between your lips. 

Not yet.

He trails sticky kisses up your stomach, making sure to pay special attention to the swell of your breasts, pulling them both together in his big hands to give them equal treatment. Shining lips wrap around your sensitive nipples and it's enough for a new wave of arousal to blossom deep inside your belly, a subtle rock of your hips meeting his when he rolls one between his teeth. Insatiable, just like him.

“Steve,” His name comes out around a sigh, your fingers running up his freckled back before tangling themselves in his hair again, addicted to the softness of it.

“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.

“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.

“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”

He moves back up your body, leaving wet kisses across sweat slicked skin making sure to suck at the sensitive spot he found just above your collarbone, smiling when you gasp. He’s not expecting to feel your lips against his jaw, bold and sure of themselves by the time they get to the corner of his mouth, dainty fingers pulling his chin down to collect your kiss.

Your lips move like you can finally relax, like you’re home now and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. This didn’t feel like just sex.

Your hands run down his sides, grinning into his mouth when he chuckles as the tips of your fingers brush against his ribs, you keep that information locked away another time as you hook them in the elastic band of his shorts. His tongue licks a little dirty into your mouth when you start to pull them down his hips, helping you get them to his knees before kicking them off entirely. The length of him feels heavy against your stomach, and it makes you break away from the kiss but his lips stay attached to you.

Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach. 

The view makes your breath hitch and get stuck in the back of your throat, walls fluttering around nothing when you see just how big he really is. He’s too busy trying to find new places to make you gasp and all you wanna do is look at him.

“Steve” his name comes out around the gasp he was trying so hard to get by sucking a little bruise behind your ear.

He hums against your skin with his eyes closed, drowning in you. Love drunk off of it. The slow sleepiness from the day creeping in as his body molds to the warmth of you.

“I wanna look at you, too.” Your request is quiet against the rough stubble that fades into his neck, and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips.

“Yeah?”  His voice is hoarse, nose nudging against your jaw when he brings his gaze back to yours, a smile pulls up the apples of his cheeks, crinkling small lines under his eyes.

“Yeah.” You don’t nod this time.

He holds your eyes in his, needing you to know there’s a double meaning in his words when he brings his palm to your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. 

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

The mattress bounces when Steve flops next to you on his back, the two of you barely fitting on your queen size with his broad shoulders and long legs. He catches the way your eyes grow big when you sit up on your knees and finally get to see all of him. He reaches out for you, sensing your hesitation at his size

“C’mere, baby, we’ll go slow.”

Heat blooms between your legs when you take his hand, your knees finding a home on either side of his hips. He’s thicker than you’d imagined all those nights with your fingers between your thighs. The big vein running up the length of him protrudes like it’s working overtime, while beads of pearly white smear against the rough patch of hair just below his belly button from his light pink tip. Wrapping his hand around the base, he gives himself a pump to relieve some of the ache from seeing you sitting on top of him like this. Soft curves on display in the moonlight, he can’t wait to see them when it breaks daylight.

“Fuck,” He sighs when you settle above him, “you look gorgeous.”

His words make your confidence peak, your hands finding themselves flat against his chest, the blunt ends of your nails drag through the hair there and you spot another cluster of freckles you hadn’t seen before, you wonder if he’ll let you find them all.

“Look who’s talkin’” You tease, making him laugh as you lean up to steal a kiss. The motion has the length of him slide easily between your slick folds, his tip catching your clit before popping out.

“Jesus Christ.” He sighs against your mouth that’s formed in a silent ‘o’,  rolling his back up in search for more.

“Steve - you’re so - “ The last of your sentence is stolen by a gasp when you grind down to meet his thrust, the tip of him prodding your entrance before gliding up with just the right amount of pressure to make you both moan. 

“I’m so what?” He asks a little smug, arms circling the curve of your waist to pull you closer, dragging you over the length of him again, it makes you shudder in his grasp. 

He catches against where you beg for more of him, fluttering around the tip, your walls try to suck him in. A low growl rumbles from his chest when he tries to fit a little more. It’s your hips that roll, and it's just enough for him to push all the way in with a little resistance.

“Goddd,” You whine, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been, your walls stinging, desperately trying to accommodate his size. A low huff exhales through your nose when you sit up straight, letting your nails drag over the beauty marks that litter his stomach before finishing your sentence, “so big.” 

“Yeah, but look at you takin’ it.” He groans with pinched brows, eyes transfixed on where he disappears inside of you. Arousal coating the thick thatch of hair that frames him, wetting his lips as he watches the way you grind your clit against it letting him fill you to the hilt. “So good for me baby, so beautiful, - fuck! - so gorgeous.”

His praise has you clenching around him, your mouth falling open when you feel him twitch because of it. His big hands find the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers leaving fires in their wake while making their way to your hips. He squeezes softly when he gets there, guiding your lazy thrusts before searching for your hands. 

You watch him intertwine your fingers with curious eyes, his gaze transfixed on yours as he holds them at your sides, rolling his hips up to push even deeper.

“Oh god,” He does it again only this time if feels like there’s nowhere else for him to fit and it makes your eyes screw shut, “ohmyfuckinggod - Steeeve!” 

“Right there? Yeah? Is that it?” He grunts trying to repeat it and your hands squeeze his in an iron grip. “Come on baby, I need to see you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is almost overwhelming. Connected to him in a way that is going to change you forever. The pad of his thumb rubs soft on the top of your hand, bringing you back to him. 

“You’re eyes are too pretty to be keepin’ them from me.” He smiles when you finally meet his gaze and it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs. 

“I love you.” The three words slip past your kiss bitten lips before you can even think long enough to stop them and it makes everything come to a standstill. 

“What’d you just say?” Steve’s voice is quiet, something unrecognizable in his tone that makes all your nerves come back like they never left.

“I - I -“ the harsh sting of rejection is written all over your face and the feeling of you trying to untangle your hands snaps him back to reality. To you.

“Hey, hey, hey, no honey.” He doesn’t let you go, squeezing till his knuckles turn white “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, because I’ve been wanting to say that to you since the fourth of July.”

You light up for him in a way he’s never seen before and he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been. 

“Really?” You whisper a little shy, your own smile becoming uncontainable. 

He lets your hands go to wrap his arms back around your waist, sitting up as he pulls you with him on his lap. Chest to chest with his back against your headboard, you’re even closer to him like this. The new position has him impossibly deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix making you keen pretty. 

“Yeah, really.” He sighs, wishing he had gotten  to say it first. 

One arm keeps you close while the other wraps around your back, the warmth of his palm spreading wide across it. The stray hair that you missed more than you realized falls over his forehead and there’s nothing stopping you from pushing it back. Fingernails dragging through his soft hair, making his eyes close until he feels the slow drag of your hips spurring him on. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace, especially when your arms wrap around his neck and he feels your hardened nipples against chest. The new angle has his thrusts hitting the spot inside of you no one else has ever been able to find, the one you almost didn’t think existed. The tip of him catches it again and again.

The sound of your slick fills the quiet of your room, growing louder with every roll of your hips that connect with his. The light sheen of sweat that coats both of you has you sliding against his thighs, the cool air from the A/C doing nothing as the two of you get lost like this. 

Your second orgasm builds at the same time your body starts to slump against his, your muscles screaming at you for a break. 

“Getting close, huh?” He asks, with a forehead pressed to yours, lips teasing but never touching with each thrust.

All you can do is nod, your eyes not daring to leave his again. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried, a hazel forest turned night, you never wanted to leave the depths of them. 

“So good for me, let go pretty baby, I got you. Let me do all the work.” He picks up his pace, pushing deeper in with every roll of his hips, feeling the way you squeeze around him while your body starts to shake, the high you’d been chasing threatening to take you. 

Holding your gaze, the hand on your back slides up the dip of your spine, curling around the back of your neck. He closes the last bit of space, pulling you to his lips. It’s sloppy and sweet, neither one of you trying to deepen it, just enjoying the way you move together like it was supposed to be like this forever. 

“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away, his confession is the last straw that sends you over the edge. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes when you cum hard around him for the second time.

Your fingers tangle his hair, crashing your lips into his with tear stained cheeks and he can feel everything you put inside of it just for him. It’s enough to finally let himself unravel for the first time in years with a loud moan and his face buried in your neck. 

It warms deep in your gut when he spills inside of you, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your thighs shake clinging to him, both of you too scared to let go in the irrational fear that you’ll just wake up from a really good dream. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, your nails finding their way to his scalp. He hums against you when you kiss his temple, nuzzling deeper until you feel his lips against the underside of your jaw.

The two of you sit there like this in a mess of tangled limbs. Sweet kisses and even sweeter words all spoken just barely above a whisper until he’s soft enough to slide out on his own. He takes his time cleaning you up after with giant hands that treat you like glass. 

It’s like muscle memory the way he pulls you to his chest under the covers, like this isn’t your first sleepover. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours with shining eyes and an even brighter smile, kissing you softly with another whispered “you’re so beautiful”.

Streams of sunshine break through your blinds when the two of you finally settle in, buried deep in his arms surrounded by the lingering scent of pine and him, the sounds of his even breathing are enough for you to give into your heavy lids. 

It’s only when you’re on the verge of dreams you’re sure will be filled with him that you hear it:

“I love you, tough girl.”

🌇 -> epilogue

beta’d by @chechelia & dividers by @chechelia

(thank you for everything cece ♥️ and a special thank you to @superblysubpar for betaing the first half of this series, i love you both dearly. & also @carolmunson for always talking to me about our boys, and helping me make this world a little bigger ♥️ ily)

[railroad-migraine]

Omg!!! Could you do a Mighty Nein version of the Can I Kiss you prompts? They were so cute omggg

Ahhh thank you lovely! All of my extra soft headcanons (kisses and nicknames) seem to go down well with my readers. It's an opportunity for me to be all soft and gooey and sappy <3

Bell's Hells version 💙

~ Poet

"Can I Kiss You?"

-> alt title: how the Mighty Nein would react to you asking for a kiss

Beau 💜

It's my charming and good natured personality, isn't it?

All the babes fall for it sooner or later.

The words come out before she can even process your question properly. It's said with crossed arms over her chest, her voice dripping with sarcasm. And then her expression seems to melt, and she realises you're being serious.

Even now, Beau is deflecting. She's putting on the bravado and confidence that comes so easily to her after years of use, even though she feels like she should be bouncing off the walls rejoicing because holy shit you want to kiss her. Kiss. Her. Like, right now.

Smooths back her hair and puckers her mouth into an attempted smolder, in turn making you chuckle, and she decides right then and there that's her new favourite sound. She ditches the arrogant smirk and holds the back of your neck, leaning in and set on finding out what other sounds you're capable of making.

-

Caleb 💜

If I kiss you, I-I don't think I'll be able to go back to the way things used to be between us. I can't simply stop wanting you this way, I won't.

I want you to be... mine. But do not doubt that I already am anything else but yours.

He's so incredibly tender. Hands shaking at his sides before a wave of courage washes over him. He swallows his fear and cups your face when he confesses how much you make him burn. He wants this kiss to mean something. He wants to mean something to you.

Caleb dares the risk of glancing down at your mouth, his own tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip in the midst of his rant. His face feels aflame, flustered, but when you coo his name his gaze snaps back up to meet yours. You say it again, fond and warm, because you don't want to go back to simply being friends either. The feeling is mutual.

He breathes in relief, and eventually he feels his cheeks ache with how wide his smile grows. It's a real one, smiling with his eyes as well as they shine, glazed over with emotion - a true expression of happiness, something that has been so rare and precious to you in recent months. His nose bumps with yours and he manages to huff a lighthearted laugh. You hold him close with no intention on letting him go anytime soon.

-

Fjord 💜

I suppose it'd be incredibly ungentlemanly of me to refuse such a... lovely request.

Just, uh, if the tusks bother you -

Definitely caught off guard, not expecting you to be so forward with the request. Indeed, you both were in the middle of sharing a very romantic moment, holding gazes as if the other person hung the stars and moons in the sky, but he's still surprised nonetheless.

His face feels like it's on fire, but Fjord's words are tempered, all cool, chill and sharp like the falchion. His natural charisma hides the fact that his heart is doing somersaults and thundering in his chest.

The self consciousness that he's so intent on healing from nestles itself into his mind - he knows you like him, and hopefully one day love him if he's lucky, but that niggling voice in the back of his head resurfaces and prods at his orcish heritage. But you're there to soothe those thoughts, placing a finger over his lips, hushing him. Tusks or no, the sailor's life is for you. And you intend to spend it with him.

-

Jester 💜

Ha! I knew you were in love with me! Pffft.

Why... why are you looking at me like that? You were joking, right?

Right?

She sucks in a breath when you pinch her chin between your thumb and finger, her own hand coming up to hold your wrist in place. She fears that you might step away from her and pretend this moment never happened.

To ease her worry, you wrap your other arm around her waist, the fabric of her skirts swaying slightly when she steps the tiniest bit closer, closing that miniscule gap. In that moment she feels like a princess in the stories she's grown up with. Stories of true love's kisses and happily ever afters. Even in a world so unpredictable and dangerous, she might just have found hers.

She's beautiful up close, soft and malleable and gazing up at you with round eyes and thick lashes. You can make out the freckles dusted across her nose, the apple of her cheeks holding back a delighted smile. The tilt of her head as her eyes flutter closed when you lean in.

-

Molly 💜

Oh? Someone's being a bit demanding, aren't they? At least buy me dinner first!

But, since you asked so nicely... I won't object to a small one~

Oh nooo, you've just stroked his ego immensely. He jerks his chin, completely blanking for a split second, processing your question, and then that sly, slow grin graces his mouth. That damn beautiful, smug, kissable mouth.

He holds your face close to his, biting his bottom lip, gentle and teasing as his gaze rakes over you, leaving your face warm but mirroring his pleased expression. There's an anticipating buzz in the air between you, a cocky lift of his brow that just screams "Well? Go on then."

Spoiler alert, the kiss is not going to be a small one. It will be anything but simple and short lived. The complete opposite, in fact. You see the glint of mischief sparkling in Molly's crimson eyes, and it overwhelms you with such a powerful yearning that you can't wait any longer. You can't endure any more teasing. You fist the front of his coat and pull him close, and he's more than willing.

-

Yasha 💜

You are asking permission to do something I've wanted for so long.

Please don't keep me waiting any longer.

Her mouth parts slightly at your words, a small line between her furrowed brows when she turns to look at you. She wants nothing but to be delicate and soft and loving when caring for you. To have the feelings be reciprocated so naturally basically has her emotionally perplexed for a moment.

Yasha reaches out to take your hands in her own, and the barbarian is so gentle even with the callouses and hard edges, treating you as if you're as fragile as glass and will shatter should the wind pick up ever so slightly. But you know if that were the case, she'd dedicate her time to pick up the pieces and put you back together.

Her heart is on her sleeve when she confesses. She wants this, wants you - tomorrow and the consequences of being emotionally vulnerable can wait. She cranes her neck, her forehead brushing with yours, the corners of her mouth pointing upwards. She feels at home.

-

Let me know which MN member you liked reading the most!! Comments and reblogs are so very much appreciated 💜

Thank you if you read this far! I love love love doing posts like Can I Kiss You? and Nicknames For You. They take a while to write but they're a labour of love and I hope you feel good after reading them xxx ~ Poet